


Singing To Tiny Dancer

by BriaMaria



Series: Divide [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Actor Louis, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Bottom Louis, Coming Out, Famous Louis, M/M, Non-Famous Harry, Top Harry, bookshop harry, but like soft angst, im bad at tagging, the kind that doesn't crush your heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-17 17:44:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9335624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BriaMaria/pseuds/BriaMaria
Summary: “Yes!” Harry punched a fist into the air. He laughed at the confusion that wrinkled the little space between Louis’ brows.“What?”“You’re flirting with me,” Harry smiled, letting his dimples pop.Louis’ face went blank for two seconds and then he rolled his eyes, one side of his mouth lifting. “Am not.”“You soooo are,” Harry sang out, poking him in the shoulder. “You like me.”“I was simply showing you how to actually bring… what did you call it? Your A-game.”Harry adopted a patronizing expression, sure it would piss him off. “And you did great. Really.”“Oi, fuck off,” Louis said, but he was actually laughing now. Outright. It was gorgeous and Harry wanted to live in this moment forever. It was the very best one he’d experienced. He wanted to always remember the image of Louis’ crinkled eyes, the sound of his breathy giggles, the smell of citrus that radiated off him as he swayed in his amusement. And Louis didn’t even know his name.Or ... When everything gets to be a bit too much for A-list actor Louis Tomlinson, he runs back to the town he had never really called home and the boy who was the only one he did.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, so I couldn't stop listening to Castle on the Hill (ahhhh), so this is lightly inspired by that. 
> 
> tw: teeny, tiny mention to a panic attack; talk about closeting and coming out; a brief mention of homophobia but with a minor character
> 
> artistic liberty: i gave holmes chapel a castle on a hill, sue me ;) Oh and they're the same age.
> 
> all mistakes are my own and this is fiction. ofc. Hope you enjoy <3

**2017**

Louis didn’t think of Holmes Chapel often. But when he did the memories were choppy and sun-dappled like those old home movies his mum used to project onto the wall of her bedroom as they cuddled underneath thick quilts. They felt that way, too. Warm and happy and wrapped in softness. 

It was silly probably, the way he felt drawn to a place he’d lived for less than six months, a decade ago. But with each kilometer that slipped into his rearview mirror he knew he’d made the right choice. Even if Liam would call him crazy for it. 

It had been a shit year, was the thing. And it was only going to get worse. Last night it had gotten to be too much. The shadows, which had been hovering at the edges, kept at bay by a busy schedule and pure exhaustion, clawed at his throat, at his lungs, seeped into his skin. He’d barely waited for the panic to subside before he’d launched himself out of bed and began throwing jeans into his overnight bag. The next thing he knew, he was behind the wheel of his little BMW and London was being swallowed by the fog behind him. 

Thank god for GPS. It had taken about 30 kilometers before he realized he had no idea where he was actually going. All he had known was something in him had whispered “home,” and he hadn’t thought of Doncaster. 

**2007**

Blue eyes. 

Harry’s fingers twitched for his camera, desperate to capture them. The sun was working its magic, and turned the color into that of a still glacial lake. Not that Harry had ever seen one in person, but he could imagine this is what it felt like staring into its depths. 

One thin brown eyebrow quirked up and Harry coughed to break himself out of the trance. Shit. His face had probably been frozen in what Nick called his “serial killer frog” stare. Way to win over the cute new boy in town. 

“Um, hiiii,” Harry said, wondering what his hair was doing. It was at that awkward stage where it was too short for his curls and too long to actually behave. This boy didn’t have any issues in that area. His soft brown hair swept over his pixie face, smooth and soft and begging for someone’s hand to just … mess it up. Harry leaned his hip against the counter trying to appear casual. Cool. “Can I help you?”

The boy didn’t say anything, which was a damn shame, because Harry really, really wanted to hear his voice. He just held up the books in his hands, gesturing to the old fashioned cash register Harry’s mum insisted on keeping because of its charm. Harry didn’t find it so charming when it jammed and refused to open or snapped shut unexpectedly catching the delicate bit of skin on his finger at random times. Usually when the bookstore was at its busiest. He was convinced it was haunted by a particularly petty ghost. 

He eyed it warily now, but took the books and began ringing up Mr. Blue Eyes. Mr. Cutie. Mr. Silent. “So, you’re new?” He asked it like a question, but he already knew the answer. It’s not like Holmes Chapel was London. Newcomers were noticed, and talked about, the minute they even thought about moving to the small town. 

Blue Eyes just nodded, a small smile playing at the corner of his thin, pink lips. 

Well. Now it was his mission to get him to talk. “Where’d you move from?” A direct non-yes or no question. That should do it. 

But just then the little bell hanging over the door of the shop chimed and they both swiveled in unison to watch Mrs. Crowley totter in. Harry greeted her, because, well it was his job. He wanted to curse though because it had been enough of a distraction to not make it weird if Mr. Silent didn’t answer his question. By the time he turned back to him, he was holding out a twenty, which Harry had to take. 

He did, however, let his fingers brush against the boy’s hands, and, although, yes he was prone to theatrics, he swore there was a spark. Okay, some logical people -cough Nick cough -- might say it was static electricity, but Harry knew it was more than that. 

When Harry handed him the change, he let himself linger, while meeting the boy’s cool blue eyes again. There was a slight groove in the delicate space between his brows as if he was confused. Or sad. Then it smoothed out again and the boy smiled his thanks before grabbing his books and heading for the door. 

Harry collapsed against the counter in defeat, but it wasn’t necessarily despair he was feeling as he watched the boy’s arse, encased in tight maroon trousers. It was round and perfect and would fit his hands like it was made for them. Jesus. His cock even gave a little interested twitch when those hips hitched up with each step. 

“Hey,” Harry called, refusing to let this be their meet cute without even getting to hear him speak. Because this was their meet cute. Harry was convinced. Theirs would be a love that poems and songs were written about. “I didn’t get your name.”

Mr. Soulmate stopped, his hand on the door. He didn’t even turn as he looked over his shoulder, and the sun slanted against his face, making valleys of his cheekbones and honey out of his caramel skin. “I could be cliche here and say, ‘No you didn’t.” Everything around Harry stilled as the raspy voice broke the hush in the store. Even Mrs. Crowley seemed to be holding her breath, aware of the importance of the moment. “But, I hate being cliche. So. I’m Louis.”

And with that he swung out the door, without even waiting for a response and Harry fell a tiny bit in love. 

**2017**

Louis saw the castle first, because of course he did. It rose -- all dark gray stone and still-sturdy walls and turrets that reached into the clouds -- on the hill, casting its shadow over the town. Its guardian, its gatekeeper, its pride and joy. 

Louis blinked the sun out of his eyes and blamed it for the moisture that was there. The castle. Their castle. 

He slowed the BMW to a crawl at the first stop sign. Where was he even going? Main street, yeah? The inn, to book a room. How long would he be there? Could he book a room when he didn’t know? Would a week be enough?

Enough for what? A little voice asked. He tuned it out and took the four necessary turns to bring him to the cottage that had been converted into the town’s B&B. It was still running, then. Louis hadn’t been sure. When he’d lived there, the owner, Mrs. Woods, had seemed ancient. It would not have surprised him had it been closed. 

He slipped a snapback over his messy hair before sliding out of the car. It wasn’t necessarily that he thought he’d be recognized. But he’d learned not to be careless. Old habits. They died hard, and they’d saved his ass multiple times. 

The B&B was exactly as he remembered it -- the aesthetic that of a grandma’s scattered thoughts. Dust particles caught in the beam of light that cut through the lobby coming to rest on the elaborate dusty pink roses that papered the wall. Little porcelain cat figurines perched on the corners of most available surfaces, ready to pounce into the bowls of potpourri placed liberally enough that the sweet oily smell itched at his nose. His steps were muffled by deep, thick ivory carpet that was, impressively, spotless.

He dropped a heavy hand on the little gold bell sitting next to a computer that he guessed was a relic from the 90s. Something about it reminded him of another relic that sat on a similar counter. But the memory was chased away before it could even form when a woman whose head would at best reach his nipples emerged from the back hallway. 

“‘Lo?” her voice was crackly and low, as if it was not used often. 

“Hello,” he called back to her, wondering if he should go offer his arm. Before he could decide, though, she’d already made it to the counter. 

She may have shrunk a few inches, or perhaps he’d actually grown, praise God, but he’d recognize that face anywhere. But the last thing he needed was someone to realize who he was. God forbid she tell her grand niece or something and the next thing he knew his location would be tweeted and fans would come flocking. So he kept his face turned to take advantage of the shadows in the lobby. “Do you have any rooms?”

Mrs. Woods cackled out a laugh that turned into a hacking cough. “All of ‘em. Not exactly busy season is it?” Her eyes narrowed as if seeking an explanation for what he was doing there. For who he was. If only she knew. 

“I’d like one for a week,” Louis said, keeping the bill of his hat tilted. It wasn’t exactly polite to be wearing it inside, but he’d long gotten over worrying about that bit of rudeness. 

She began working on the paperwork, and he let his gaze wander away from her bowed head and sleek white hair. “So I drove through town a couple years ago.”

“Hmmm,” she hummed at him, distracted. 

“I stopped at a bookshop here and they had a few rare books I hadn’t been able to find elsewhere.” Casual. If he pushed to hard, he’d pique her interest. And then he’d never lose it. “Is it still open, do you know?”

At that she paused, looking up at him over her half-moon gold spectacles. “The Next Chapter,” she said. 

He knew what it was called. Of course he knew what it was called. That’s not what he asked. But he simply murmured something to get her to continue. 

She bent her head once more. “It’s still open. Three blocks down. On the right.”

“And the woman there, the owner? She helped me.”

“Ah, that’d be Anne Styles,” she slapped a piece of paper down on the counter between them. “How will you be paying?”

“Cash,” he said, tucking his hand into his pocket for his wallet. All the secrecy would be for naught if he had to hand over his card. “And she still runs it then?”

“Ah, no, lad,” she said. Louis hadn’t realized how much he’d been waiting for the answer until the dull pain of disappointment began to radiate in gentle waves out from a sharp point underneath his heart. It had been a long-shot. It hadn’t even been fully formed, really. Just a thought. Just a whisper. 

Home. 

But she wasn’t done. “She moved to France with her new husband, ‘bout, maybe two years ago?” Mrs. Woods thumbed through the bills holding each to the light. “You must have been here before she took off.”

“Who runs the shop now?” 

Mrs. Woods turned those disconcerting light hazel eyes back on him. “Oh, that would be her son. Harry.”

**2007 **

Harry couldn’t believe his luck. Both good and bad.

He was ecstatic because here Louis was, right in front of him. After a fruitless, desperate week of making one too many runs to the grocery or the post office or the ice cream shop in hopes of “causally” running into the boy again, here he was. When Harry hadn’t even been trying. 

Which was the bad news. Harry had not been prepared for this. In the past seven days since his soulmate had wandered into his life, he hadn’t left the house once without debating each outfit choice for at least twenty minutes and then spending an additional thirty on his hair. Just in case. 

It had gotten so bad, Mum and Gemma had begun setting timers for him. And teasing him mercilessly. That, he could deal with. Running into Mr. Cutie, Mr. Soulmate, Mr. Sass With The Ass looking like a bum? Nope.

But of course, of course, that’s what happened. Because instead of looking fresh and smelling good and being ready to dispense his dimples with ease so that Louis would fall in love with him, he was bent in half, ready to hock up a lung after that particular brutal sprint up the path to the lake. He’d wrapped his soaked T-shirt through his curls to use as a sweatband about five miles back and he was wearing a particularly frayed pair of basketball shorts that sat low on his hips. At least he could show off his -- what he was going to think of as glistening and not disgusting -- chest and hips. And maybe situate himself downwind of Louis.

No matter how grimy he was, there was no way he was passing up this opportunity. When life gave you lemons, well…who was he to look a gifthorse in the face. (Mixing metaphors be damned.)

There was no rush, though. As Harry got his breath back, he let his eyes rove over Louis’ soft, curvy body, where it sunk into the grass along the lake’s bank. One bare foot dipped into the water, sending ripples along the mirrored surface; the other was bent up resting on the ground to show off thick thighs encased in cut-off jeans. He was laying down, his arm stretch above his head, his fingers toying with a dandelion, though his entire attention was focused on the book he held loosely in his grasp. 

His shirt had bunched, just a bit, to expose a swatch of his belly. The smooth, tan skin was more beautiful than any art that Harry had ever seen. He wanted to sink his teeth into the flesh there. 

Really, Louis looked like a nymph, a sex god, a vision conjured from heat stroke and dehydration. 

Harry blinked hard, but Louis was still there when he opened his eyes again. So. Not a hallucination. 

Now Harry just needed the perfect opener to begin his courtship. 

Harry only tripped a bit over his feet as he sat down next to Louis, probably too close for practical strangers, but Harry felt the pull of Louis’ body like a magnet. “Hey, Louis. Do you like raisins?”

Louis didn’t even look away from his book, but Harry saw the corners of his mouth twitch as if he were swallowing a smile. “If you’re about to say what I think you’re about to say you can just stand right back up and go home.”

“You know it’s impolite not to answer a direct question,” Harry said, trying not to grin as Louis sighed and finally slipped his eyes over to glare at him from the side of his eyes. It was impressive. 

When it became clear that Harry was not going to cower under the force of his stare, Louis let the book drop to his chest, rolled his eyes, and sighed one more time. All dramatic like. Harry could not be more endeared. “Fine. Yes I like raisins.”

“Well then,” Harry was losing the battle. The smile could not be contained. “How do you feel about a date.”

He was laughing by the time he got the words out and Louis’ expression had not changed even a centimeter. “That was honestly the worst thing I’ve ever heard or experienced in my entire 16 years of life.”

The look combined with the words sent Harry further over the edge into giggles, and once he was there, it was all over. Somehow he ended up sprawled out next to Louis their shoulders bumping. And despite his grimey-ness, Louis wasn’t shifting away. Harry smiled up into the sky. Mission accomplished. 

“Hey, I was going to go with the old, Did it hurt line, but I know how you hate cliches,” Harry said. 

“So that brilliant piece of wit was what you settled on instead?” Louis drawled, but there was something in his voice, layered and woven into the raspiness of his consonants. It sounded like amusement. Harry was sure. 

“See how quick I am on my feet?” Harry nudged Louis’ ribs with the point of his elbow, just enough to get him to squirm a bit. Louis swatted at him, but there wasn’t any heat behind it, so Harry let his arm rest where it had fallen. Even closer to the warm heat radiating off Louis’ body. 

“Color me impressed,” Louis said. 

There was a buzzing in Harry’s bloodstream that had nothing to do with the endorphins from his run. He’d managed to talk to Louis. He’d managed to get more than one sentence out of him. He’d managed to be laying next to him in a sun-bathed field on a lazy summer day. 

“So what’s yours?” he asked, unwilling to let their conversation drop into silence. 

“What’s my what?” Louis asked, sounding put upon, but not really. He was talking wasn’t he?

“Your best chat up line.”

“Are you telling me that was your best chat up line?” Louis sat up at that, his face horrified his hand clutching at his chest. “Tell me it isn’t so.”

Harry giggled, blinking up at the him. “I brought my A-game for you and am getting no appreciation in return.”

Louis’ eyes slid off Harry’s face, dipping to trace over his chest, down to where the waistband of his boxer shorts peeped out, before coming back to meet Harry’s eyes. Heat flickered in Harry’s belly, and he tried not to visibly react. His body wasn’t so great at listening to him though, so he was glad Louis had turned his attention away from Harry’s lower region. 

Louis’ tongue darted out, just touching the corner of his lips. Harry almost got a semi from that alone, nevermind the hungry look on Louis’ face. 

“Darling, please believe, you are getting loads of appreciation from me,” Louis said, the words dripped in honey. 

“Yes!” Harry punched a fist into the air over his face. He laughed at the confusion that wrinkled the little space between Louis’ brows. Harry was beginning to love the little groove there. 

“What?”

“You’re flirting with me,” Harry smiled, letting his dimples pop. Sweat be damned. 

Louis’ face went blank for two seconds and then he rolled his eyes, one side of his mouth lifting. “Am not.”

“You soooo are,” Harry sang out, poking him in the shoulder. “You like me.”

“I was simply showing you how to actually bring… what did you call it? Your A-game.”

Harry adopted a patronizing expression, sure it would piss him off. “And you did great. Really.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Louis said, but he was actually laughing now. Outright. It was gorgeous and Harry wanted to live in this moment forever. It was the very best one he’d experienced. He wanted to always remember the image of Louis’ crinkled eyes, the sound of his breathy giggles, the smell of citrus that radiated off him as he swayed in his amusement. And Louis didn’t even know his name. 

“The wit. So sharp,” Harry poked him again to soften the words into banter. 

Louis glared down at him. But again, there was just amusement in those crystal blue eyes. “You’re a cheeky shit aren’t you?”

“Takes one to know one?” Harry tried, giving his shoulders a little, “what are ya gonna do” shrug. 

Louis collapsed back against the ground, this time just a tiny bit closer to Harry. He managed to refrain from celebrating out loud again though. 

“So.”

“So,” Harry echoed. 

“What’s your name, Curly?”

Success times like a million. “Should I make you guess?”

“Oh, come now. I thought we’ve established I hate cliches,” Louis said, his eyes locked on the sky. Harry didn’t mind. He took the opportunity to let his eyes trace over the sharp cheekbones that cast shadows onto Louis’ face. 

“A trade then?” Harry pushed himself up onto his elbow so that he was leaning just slightly over Louis. To get the full view. 

Louis narrowed his eyes, but still didn’t look at Harry. He took it as an agreement. 

“Your best chat up line for my name.”

“Or,” Louis let the word hang in the still air. “I could just keep calling you nicknames based on your obvious physical attributes, and give nothing up in return.”

“Dimples?”

“Frog face.”

“Heyyyy,” Harry drawled. Were they at the stage for that yet? To be so comfortable in their insults. There was a trust there, an intimacy one often didn’t find with strangers. But it seemed like they were already there. It seemed like he’d known this boy forever. Plus he really did look like a frog. 

Louis’ lips twitched. “Pretty.” 

It sounded almost grudging. But Harry didn’t mind. He bit back the stupid smile that wanted to burst free at the compliment. 

“C’mon,” Harry nudged him. “Play.”

Something flicked in Louis’ eyes. Heat. But it was gone quickly, replaced with humor. “Fine.”

“You first.”

Louis groaned, slapping a hand over his forehead. “Okay.” He sat up completely and Harry followed suit, feeling that magnetism again. His body followed Louis’ as if it were meant to. As if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Are you ready for this?”

“Am I going to be able to handle it?” Harry asked. 

“No.”

“I’ll take my chances,” he said. And then there was nothing but silence. “Come onnnnnnn. Louieeeeeeeee.”

“Fine, fine.” Louis said.

There was a heavy pause, and the little hairs on Harry’s forearms stood up in anticipation. He was barely breathing.

Louis tilted his chin down, so that when he looked up at Harry it was from beneath thick, dark lashes. “Will you marry me?”

There was a “yes” resting on Harry’s tongue, pushing at his lips, wanting to be released into the space between them. Harry swallowed it and hoped he covered the small wave of panic that crested at the reaction. There was flirting and then there was crazy. 

Instead he just nodded, as if he was judging the question. “Simple,” he settled on. “But effective.”

Louis flipped his head in a way that swept his fringe more fully to the side. Harry wanted to pet at it. “I know. You’re up.”

For some reason Harry hesitated. He had no idea why. He wanted Louis to know his name. To have it mean something to him one day. To scream it out. To have it tumble out of his mouth tangled with laughter. To whisper it back to him. 

But there was something magical about this in between moment. In this moment, to Louis, Harry was mysterious. A magical creature that may or may not actually be real. Giving a name to himself could ruin the fun. 

There was no way he couldn’t tell him though. “I’m Harry,” he finally said, shrugging a shoulder as if it were nothing. It really was nothing.

Harry watched as Louis processed the little tidbit, clearly rolling it around, testing how it felt in his mind. Then he glanced down at the hand Harry held out to him. 

“Oh please,” Louis said. And in one swift move, batted his hand aside, placed small, but strong fingers against Harry’s shoulders and shoved. 

The next thing Harry knew he was sputtering as water rushed into his nose and mouth. The lake wasn’t deep, especially at the edges, but he got a face full of it.

“You little shit,” he called after Louis’ retreating back when he was able to talk again. 

Louis stopped at the edge of the woods. “Takes one to know one, Harold,” he returned, before sprinting off into the shadows away from Harry. 

There was mud in his hair and a gross slime coating his hands and something definitely squelched into places it shouldn’t. But Harry couldn’t stop smiling. 

**2017**

Louis’ feet wouldn’t move. Like, he was telling them to move, and they refused. 

He’d settled into his room, managing to evade Mrs. Woods’ prying gaze long enough to drop his bags, check to make sure the bruises under his eyes weren’t too stark, and slip out of the B&B. 

Once he was on the streets of Holmes Chapel, he felt the tension melt out of him. It shouldn’t feel familiar. It shouldn’t feel like a haven. But it did. 

He was sure people knew him here. It wasn’t arrogance to say that there were few places complete anonymity really existed for him anymore. But he also knew from experience that people saw what they were expecting to see. No one was expecting to see Louis Tomlinson, A-list actor, walking down the streets of Holmes Chapel, when he had no known connection to the town. So they saw a man in a snapback, black jeans, and a green Adidas hoodie. Maybe they thought he looked a little raggedy and maybe he did. That didn’t matter though, because their eyes would slip over him anyway. 

There was something about being able to breathe again. The tension, the anxiety, that had ridden him hard over the past few hours, the past few weeks, eased simply by walking along the quiet sidewalk of the main drag. That was until the bookstore came into view. 

Harry.

That’s when his feet stopped working. He’d actually stopped mid-stride, and a pair of middle-age mums behind him had to do a little dance to avoid crashing into him. 

“Pardon,” he murmured to their back as they shot disgruntled looks over their shoulders. But still he was unable to keep moving forward. This was where he lived, now. On this tiny patch of sidewalk in Holmes Chapel. 

Would Harry recognize him? Would he know him? Not just his name. Not just his face. But him. 

It was impossible. Louis knew that. It had been a decade since they’d spoken, and they’d only known each other that one summer, really. Barely long enough to leave a trace of a memory, let alone something to hold onto for years to come.

Louis hoped Harry didn’t hate him. 

But, a little nagging thought poked at the back of his conscious, it would be preferable to nothing. What if Harry saw him and there was nothing there. Just a bland smile he offered to all strangers, that he offered to the world. 

Shit. Fuck. Balls. Bloody hell.

Louis wasn’t a coward, despite what the dark voices whispered to him in the deepest part of the night. He could do this. What was the worst that could happen anyway?

He adjusted his hat, took a deep, soothing breath, then finally got his legs to move. 

The bell chimed over the door, just like it always did, and Louis was immediately transported back a decade. The Next Chapter had always been one of favorite places in town in a way that had nothing to do with Harry. Well, that wasn’t true. In addition to Harry, at least. 

The store had never been neat and orderly and it still wasn’t. Books spilled over tables, laid carelessly against overstuffed armchairs, were tucked high on shelves already bursting with too many occupants. It was cozy and warm and smelled like paper and dreams and, inexplicably, tea. There was a tabby cat sprawled in the window seat, taking up the majority of the window seat without shame. 

Louis trailed his finger of the cracked spine of one of the used books that was stacked high on the counter by the register -- the old behemoth still hadn’t been replaced -- and felt the tug in the bottom of his sternum. 

Home. 

“Be right there,” a deep, slow voice called from somewhere in the back, behind rows of shelves. It went straight to Louis’ belly and he froze. His mouth went dry, and he realized he actually was a coward. He couldn’t do this. 

Shit. Shit. Shit. He heard the shuffle of feet against the wood floors, and he knew he had only seconds to get the fuck out. There was a tiny part of him that still wanted to see Harry, see what he had become, despite the panic that lapped at the back of his throat. That part of him was drowned out by the sirens going off in his head. 

He ducked his head and shaking fingers found the door handle just as Harry emerged from the labyrinth that was the back of the shop. “I’m good,” Louis called over his shoulder, pitching his voice to something deeper. Not that Harry would recognize it anyway. But, still. 

The air was welcome against his hot skin. He hunched his shoulders against non-existent wind and took off down the street. Get the fuck out. That’s all he could think. And he was so concentrated on that goal, that he didn’t hear the footsteps behind him until it was too late. 

Fingers dug into his arm, halting his borderline sprint away from the store, spinning him around. Surprise alone had him turning into it, his body going where it was directed by competent hands. 

It was only when he was pressed up against solid male; only when he was gaping up at the gorgeous face above him; only when those fingers buried themselves even deeper into the soft flesh of his upper bicep did he fully realize what was happening. 

They just stared at each other. Green eyes wide with shock, soft lips parted slightly in confusion. 

“Louis?” Harry finally asked, his voice barely above a whisper. But Louis heard it. He heard every emotion Harry managed to jam into those two syllables. 

Louis was fucked. He let his lips tip up just a bit in a sardonic smile. “Hiya, Harold.”

**2007**

Harry was considering how desperate it would look for him to turn up at Louis’ house when a beep cut through his scheming. He’d just finished closing up the shop for his mum and was walking home, taking the long way. If that long way so happened to pass in front of the house Louis and his family were staying in, well. So be it. 

The thing was he’d found out where Louis lived about an hour after meeting him, because, well, secrets weren’t exactly a thing in Holmes Chapel. He had absolutely zero reason to actually drop by, though, and desperation wasn’t exactly a good look. 

Still, it had been four days since he’d seen Louis. Four very painful days. Lots of wanking. Lots of day-dreaming. Lots of wedding planning, of course. But no Louis. 

Sure, somehow Harry had managed to stumble across grumpy Mr. Winston no less than six times in the past three days, but of course he couldn’t run into someone he actually wanted to see. Because that’s how small towns worked. 

Or his life. Yeah, that’s how his life worked. It was just as he was getting out the confetti in his mind for the little pity party he was about to throw himself that the horn cut in. 

Maybe he was walking in the street just a bit, but could he really be expected to keep in a straight line when his heart was battling off the pure helplessness of having a crush who never seemed to leave his house?

Harry didn’t even bother to glance back, he just waved a hand over his shoulder. Go around, asshole.

The horn didn’t cut off thought. Somehow it actually got… jaunty? What the fuck? He turned on the “two pence” part of shave and a haircut, and stopped dead in his tracks. 

Louis.

The boy smiled at him through the dirty windshield of a POS of undetermined color, his fingers lifting in a little wave. 

“Oi! What are you waiting for Harold?” Louis called from his rolled down window, with a little nod toward the passenger side. 

Harry only sort of tripped over his feet as he scrambled into the car. It was moderately clean save for a few fast food wrappers sticking to both each other and the floorboard. Harry was impressed.

“Heyyy,” he said, tossing his backpack onto the floor behind his seat, before turning to beam at Louis. He was gorgeous as always, dressed in a loose maroon shirt that scooped below collarbones that might as well be Harry’s new religion for how much he wanted to worship them. Louis’ soft fringe fell over aviators that were unfairly hiding his eyes, but they gave him an older, dangerous vibe that Harry couldn’t deny tugged at his cock. 

It took everything in him not to lean over and capture Louis’ lips with his. They weren’t there yet, of course. They’d only exchanged a handful of sentences, really, so pecks hello were definitely off limits for now. For now. 

So he just held his smile in place, and Louis smirked back at him as if he could read his thoughts. Or maybe he just noticed the way Harry’s body swayed into his. 

Instead of closing the distance between them, though, and taking it out of Harry’s hands, Louis simply patted his cheek. “Alright?”

“Am now,” Harry couldn’t resist. 

“Such a charmer, this one,” Louis nodded toward Harry as if he was letting an unknown person in on a secret. Harry grinned, more at peace with the world than he had been at any time in the past four days. 

“Buckle up then, yeah,” Louis said, as he pulled back onto the street. “Precious cargo and all that.”

It wasn’t an idle order. As soon as they made it past the quiet streets and hit the open country lanes Louis floored it. Harry finally tore his eyes away from the speedometer when it hit 90. 

He rolled down his window instead. The sky was pink and golden and purple and the air was cool with the hint of night chasing away the heat from the day and the wind swept the curls back away from his face and Harry thought that maybe this was what perfection was. 

They didn’t talk as they flew down the deserted roads and Harry didn’t ask where they were going. He simply leaned over and turned up the radio when Tiny Dancer came on and they both sang the chorus, their voices tangling in the space between them. 

It was freedom, it was summer, it was puppy love. And sure, Harry fell fast. He knew this about himself. Even if he hadn’t realized it before Louis, he certainly realized now. This felt different though. Different than the crushes at school, and the blushes as fingers brushed fingers at school dances, and the butterflies as eyes locked across crowded rooms. 

Sure that was all there. Of course. But there was something more. He barely even knew Louis and all he wanted to do was be with him. Talking. Not talking. Touching. Not touching. It would be a lie to say he didn’t want to get his mouth on Louis, his hands, to sink into that soft, curvy body and lose himself. That wasn’t all there was for him, though. 

The way it was between them -- comfortable and jittery at the same time, happy and nervous, settled and on edge -- was rare. Just because Harry wanted to hold onto the feeling with a death grip didn’t make it crazy, right?

Too soon, Louis was slowing, turning off the main lane. The road was dirt and gutted and the POS bounced hard with each divot and Harry just didn’t care. 

Louis finally pulled to a stop at the edge of a completely empty field. 

They hadn’t lost the sunset yet. From where they were parked they could watch it set over the castle on the hill. His castle. The one he turned to when bored or scared or lonely and think of knights and ladies and dragons and magic. Maybe it was fanciful, but he let himself have it. Somehow, Louis had known. 

Harry pushed the door open, all but falling into the cool grass below. By some miracle he maintained his footing but ended up just standing there, staring at the beauty before him. There was the faint hint of their town, the dark geometrical shapes of some of the taller buildings standing out against the golden sky. But the houses were eclipsed by the stones that rose over them. 

Louis had rounded the back of the car, grabbing a few things from the boot before knocking into Harry’s shoulders. “Don’t just stand there, you lug. Help me.”

It was enough to jolt Harry out of his daze. He reached out blindly, wanting to take whatever burden Louis carried. Turned out it was a thick blanket, which Louis directed him into spreading over the still-warm hood. 

They crawled up on it, their hips, their knees, their arms touching as they settled into their spots. Harry didn’t dare speak, lest he break the spell. 

“Smoke, Harold?” Louis’ fingers slipped behind his ear to grasp the hand-rolled cigarette he kept tucked there. Harry nodded, well, because, and they shared a few drags. There was something intimate about wrapping his lips around the place where Louis had just pulled from. It sent little pinpricks up and along Harry’s spine. 

Louis crushed it out just as the sun disappeared behind the hill. “Don’t want to be a bad influence on you, young Harold.”

“We’re the same age,” Harry muttered, disgruntled. 

“In years, maybe.”

“Oh my god, you’re so full of shit,” Harry laughed. 

“Ah, be nice, I might not share any of the good stuff with you,” Louis said, smirking and leaning back on his forearms. The position afforded Harry a front-row view of Louis’ curves and he licked his lips, wanting to shift so that he could cover that body with his own. Fuck. 

“If you call that shitty vodka I know you have over there the good stuff, I’ll be sorely disappointed,” Harry said instead of lapping at Louis’ star-kissed skin like he wanted to. 

“Who said the ‘good stuff’ was the alcohol?” Louis asked, peeping up at him through those lashes. 

“Who are you?” Harry whispered, his cock twitching at the suggestion in Louis’ voice. The boy was a fucking menace and he knew it. 

But instead of going with the easy, flirty answer, Louis closed in on himself. A little. Enough. He reached for the handle of vodka he’d placed at his hip and took a swig of the clear liquid. His nose scrunched up against the burn in a way that made Harry want to boop it. As he valued his fingers, he refrained. 

“Nothing special, mate,” Louis finally muttered, and after one more sip passed the bottle to Harry. 

He took a mouthful, but kept his eyes on Louis’ withdrawn expression. The cheap spirits tore down his esophagus. He took another shot anyway. 

“I think you’re special,” Harry said, pressing the thick glass back into Louis’ fingers.

Louis didn’t turn, just kept his gaze on the castle even though it was just a shapeless shadow in the night at this point. “You don’t even know me.”

Harry took a final swig on his turn. He was already feeling it -- the way everything became a little spinny, a little less sharp at the edges. But at the same time, Louis was crystal clear. His lips, his hair, his eyes that gleamed in the darkness with something way too close to sadness. Harry wanted to wrap him up in a soft blanket and murmur happy things to him until he granted him one of those crinkly eyed smiles. 

“You’re the sun, Louis,” Harry finally said, his words only slightly blurring at the edges. He was pretty proud of that. “You’re everything. You’re so special.”

“And you’re drunk, Harold,” Louis said, capping the bottle and tossing it to the ground. He laid back on the hood, but not without running gentle fingers down Harry’s arm. Harry took it as all the encouragement he needed. 

“Not that drunk,” Harry protested. Buzzed, yes. Drunk, no. He could hold his damn liquor. And this was fucking important. “Why don’t you see it?”

“See what?”

“That you’re amazing,” Harry said, frustrated with his inability to make Louis understand.

Louis tugged Harry’s hand out from under where it had been supporting him so that he tumbled into Louis chest. Harry went with it. That was where he wanted to be anyway.

He adjusted so that his head rested in the nook of Louis’ shoulder, his hand tracing patterns on the fabric of the shirt that was tragically covering Louis’ chest. 

“Who are you?” Louis murmured into Harry’s hair. 

“Just Harry.” But the words caught in Louis’ armpit and Harry wasn’t sure if he’d even heard them. 

“No ‘just’ about it, love,” Louis finally said softly, so softly, as his fingers carded through dark chocolate curls. 

Harry tipped his face up, wanting to sink into the fondness that coated Louis’ voice. 

They locked eyes and Harry knew it was coming. Louis gave him time to back away, as if he would ever. And then his lips were pressing against Harry’s. It was gentle. Almost a caress. Chaste and affectionate and Harry leaned into it wanting more. Always more. 

But then Louis was pulling away. A little moan escaped from the back of Harry’s throat. No, this wouldn’t do. 

He rolled with the momentum of Louis’ withdrawal, until his body covered Louis’, pressing it down into the metal beneath them. Harry’s forearms came up to frame Louis’ face, and he lifted a thumb to run it along his smooth jaw. Surprise flickered in Louis’ eyes but there was a tiny smile on his lips as Harry let his lower body settle in between Louis’ thighs. 

“Was that your A-game?” Harry smirked down at the boy, letting their cocks brush against each other. 

“You don’t deserve my A-game,” Louis bit out, but he lifted his hips into Harry’s, the movement belying his words. His ankles locked behind Harry’s legs, bringing them even closer. Ever closer. 

“Hmm, guess I’ll have to earn the good stuff then,” Harry said, his lips hovering just above Louis’. They weren’t kissing, not yet. They were just breathing in the same air. It was the hottest thing Harry had ever done, and he almost didn’t want to break the moment. He couldn’t resist Louis any longer, though. 

So Harry cradled his face in one hand and crushed his mouth against his. This time there was nothing innocent about it. It was dirty and fast and all tongues and teeth and slickness as they explored. Louis was caramel and smoke and Harry never wanted to taste anything else.

Their hips matched their tongues as they thrust and parried with each other, teasing and chasing, as the air cooled around them. 

Louis fingers dug into Harry’s back, his heels into Harry’s calves, and Harry just wanted to be closer still. 

He shifted his hips, causing a slightly different drag of his cock against Louis’ and he almost came right there in his pants. Like the fucking teenager he was. 

Dragging his lips away from Louis’ was almost torture, but they quickly found a home again in the curve of Louis’ neck. His teeth nipped at the skin there, then he gave into it and simply mouthed at the vulnerable spot just below his jaw. Louis cried out when Harry’s tongue found the sensitive curve of his ear, and he turned into liquid gold beneath his fingers when Harry finally sunk his teeth into the dip of his collarbone. 

The sound of Louis losing himself was almost enough to send Harry over the edge. Well that and the way Louis was rutting up against him in just the right way. 

By some miracle he managed to hold on to his sanity though. If for no other reason than he refused to come first. He pulled back a little to meet Louis’ eyes, because he wanted to see those eyes. They were hooded, the pupils blown, the lashes a little wet. It was the prettiest sight Harry had ever seen and he couldn’t help but twitching down, seeking friction on his cock. 

“Lou,” he murmured. It was too much. It was all too much. 

Louis pulled him back to his lips with one hand on the collar of his shirt while the other dipped beneath the waistband of Harry’s jeans. They didn’t explore much further, just rested against the soft swell of Harry’s arse, while Louis’ tongue plunged into Harry’s mouth and, really, Harry was only so strong. 

He reached down to press his palm against Louis, dragging his hand over the hard ridge until he felt Louis breath catch. Then Louis was falling apart under Harry and as he did he slipped his finger down to ghost over Harry’s hole and that was all it took.

Harry didn’t know how long they stayed wrapped in each other’s arms. The sky was all dark blue velvet, and time seemed irrelevant anyway. It was only when Louis’ gently shook his shoulder that Harry realized he’d slipped into a light sleep. He moaned in protest but let Louis shift him to the side so they could both sit up. 

The sensation wasn’t pleasant and they grimaced in unison at the stickiness in their pants. As their eyes locked, though, Harry started giggling. Louis didn’t hold out long. It was bubbly, this feeling, this way they were laughing together. Like champagne. 

Louis got control of himself first, but the smile lingered on his lips as his eyes traced Harry’s still beaming face. 

“So was that it?” Harry asked, unable to help himself. There was a boldness, a comfort, an ease he felt around Louis that let him be free. That let him say things he may have swallowed before. 

Louis twitched a brow at him, but went along. “Was what it?”

“The good stuff.”

There was a moment of silence and then Louis burst into laughter, deep and genuine. It settled into Harry’s bones and he vowed to try to make Louis laugh every day. “No babe,” he finally said patting Harry’s cheek before hopping off the hood of the car. “When it’s the good stuff, you won’t need to ask. You’ll be able to tell.”

**2017**

There was a moment of shocked silence and Louis died approximately four thousand deaths in those seconds. 

Then the confusion passed and Harry broke into a smile. “Louis,” he said again, but this time with purpose. Louis thought there might be some genuine happiness lingering in the soft consonants of his name. Or maybe he was just being hopeful. 

“Harry,” he answered, letting himself grin back. Suddenly he was pulled even tighter against the solidness of Harry’s chest. Louis was all but engulfed in Harry’s arms then, his face pressed against Harry’s neck, breathing his scent. It was warm. It was different and familiar all at once. 

It was home.

And fuck his brain for going there. Harry wasn’t home. Harry was barely more than a friendly stranger. A man that was part of his past he never even thought about any more. 

Liar. 

Before he could fully engage in a battle with his own mind, Harry was pulling back and Louis felt the loss immediately. He stepped away, though, so as not to be weird. 

“What are you…?” Harry was studying him, his eyes dragging over the hat, pale skin, the loose hoodie. Harry’s teeth sunk into those plush lips as he bit off the question. 

“Um,” Louis tugged at the hem of his jumper. “I was driving up north to visit some friends and I passed a Holmes Chapel sign. I couldn’t resist.”

“Oh,” Harry ran a hand through his hair, tousling the curls. It was long now. It almost brushed against his shoulders and Louis’ hand itched to feel the silkiness beneath his own fingers. God, he was still so pretty. The prettiest person. “Did you…” Harry glanced toward his store then back at Louis. 

“Um, sorry, yeah, I didn’t want to disturb you so I…” it was a lame excuse. One Harry wouldn’t believe. But they were strangers now and strangers went along with each other’s bullshit right?

“That’s bullshit.”

It startled a laugh out of Louis. God. He’d forgotten this. How easy they were with each other. How it felt like they’d known each other for decades after talking for three minutes. 

“Your face is bullshit,” he shot back, and Harry dimpled at him and Louis lost his breath. He actually lost his fucking breath. 

“Ah, you love my face, Louis. Don’t lie,” Harry laughed. But then he sobered a bit, looking over his shoulder again as a customer wandered into his shop. “Look, I’ve got to get back, but are you staying around? For the night at least?”

Louis didn’t know what the right answer was. So he went with the truth. “Yeah,” he said, nodding just in case it wasn’t clear. 

“Um, can I take you to dinner?” Harry asked.

Shit. “The thing is…,” Louis started, ducking his head when someone walked by a bit too close. Harry watched him, his crystal green eyes seeing everything. Like they always had. 

“We don’t have to go out,” Harry said. “I can make us something. At my place.” 

Well that spelled all kinds of trouble. But wasn’t that why he was here in the first place? So Louis nodded. “That’d be nice. If you don’t mind. It’s just…”

“I get it,” Harry said, his hand squeezing Louis’ arm before dropping away. “Here give me your phone, I’ll put my number in and then text you the address.”

Harry made quick work of the task, texting himself off Louis’ phone so he had the number, before slipping it back into Louis’ hands. Then they just stood, taking each other in. A car screeched around a corner in the distance, and Harry startled as if he’d been in a trance. 

Louis smirked. 

“I gotta …” Harry thumbed in the direction of The Next Chapter, and started walking backward away from Louis, but keeping his eyes on his face. “Hey Lou.”

“Hey Harold.”

“I’m glad you saw that sign,” he said before turning and taking off at a light jog. It wasn’t long before he disappeared back into the store, but Louis was still standing there, just smiling.

“Me too,” he murmured. 

**2007**

Harry didn’t want to be greedy. But once he’d gotten a taste of Louis he couldn’t stop wanting another. 

It didn’t help that Louis literally ghosted anytime he didn’t want to be seen. It had been a week since the night watching the sunset over the castle -- and the rest of that fun stuff -- and Harry was dying. 

“Stop moping,” his mum smacked his forehead. 

“But mum,” he protested.

“No I don’t want to hear any more about perfect bums and hair ‘woven out of softly muted gold’ was it? Who knew my son was such a poet,” Anne even did the air quotes as if wasn’t already embarrassing enough. It had been a weak moment when he’d poured his sorrow out to Anne and Gemma over ice cream sundaes. “Now get your own bum out of this bed. It’s summer. Go outside.”

The only reason he let himself be poked and prodded from beneath the comforter was because if he went outside there was a tiny chance he’d get to see Louis. 

He stepped out into the warm air with absolutely zero plan. Blinking the sun out of his eyes, he slid on his white plastic sunglasses and glanced around for options. That’s when his gaze fell on the castle. If he were trying to stalk Louis -- which he mostly definitely was not, thank you very much -- he would not pick that as a destination. Good thing he wasn’t trying to find him then.

It was an easy walk to get to the bottom hill that led up to the castle. There were a few tourists making their way up the dusty path, but despite how enchanting Harry found their little pile of stones, few found it worth the trip to Holmes Chapel. Some sort of generous trust kept it open and operating, but it was never overrun. 

He took his time up the winding trail, letting his feet catch on loose rocks along the way. By the time he reached the top, his lower back was covered with a then sheen of sweat and he was wishing his hair was long enough to push into a bun. Maybe next year. 

Flashing his season pass and a cheeky smile at Glenda, the woman who had been manning the front desk since he was five, he sailed through the gift shop into the cool, dark hallways of the castle itself. A peace immediately settled into the hollow spaces of his ribs. It was instantaneous, and a constant he could rely on like nothing else.

He didn’t rush up to his favorite spot, just took his time, running fingers over damp walls, and ducking into the parlours off the main courtyard. By the time he turned to the stairs, the couple that had been wandering the ground floor with him left, and he was alone. 

It almost felt inevitable that Louis would be there. But only in the day dreams Harry spun of the two of them. This wasn’t a fantasy though. There Louis sat, real and in the flesh, his legs dangling over into nothingness. 

“You’re not supposed to sit on the walls,” Harry said, gently so as not to startle him. He was in quite a precarious position. Harry joined him anyway, swinging a long leg up and over the stones. There was a bit of a swoop in his stomach as he wobbled a bit until his butt found purchase. It was a long, sheer drop down. 

“Jesus, Harold. Careful,” Louis chastised, grabbing onto his arm to steady him. He didn’t let go, even though Harry was no longer shifting to get comfortable. “I saw you coming.”

Louis nodded toward the path far below them. He must have been perched here, watching Harry meander up toward the castle the whole time. 

“Yet you didn’t run away,” Harry said softly, not looking at him. Instead he concentrated on the view. It was as if all of England was spread out at their feet. It was an unusually clear, beautiful day and they could see forever and a day. The sky went on forever, only interrupted by white puffy clouds, and the roaring green fields rolled along streams and fences, only interrupted by the odd manor house or two. 

“Now why would I do that, Harold?”

Harry scoffed at that. “You’ve been hiding from me for a week.”

Louis didn’t deny it. So they just sat there, their legs bumping every so often. 

“I don’t want you to fall in love with me,” Louis finally said. 

Too late, Harry wanted to say. But didn’t. “Think a lot of yourself there don’t ya.”

Louis tucked his chin to the side so he could watch Harry’s face. There wasn’t any humor there in his eyes. “You’re halfway there, Harry, and you don’t even know me.”

“Stop saying I don’t know you,” Harry didn’t know why it was irritating to hear, but it was. 

Louis laughed without amusement. “You don’t, love. How many sisters do I have? What do I think about politics? What do I want to do with my life?”

“17. You’re an anarchist. You want to run a nudist colony.”

Louis nudged his shoulder. “I’m serious.”

“So am I.” Harry wished he could turn full and grasp Louis’ shoulders in his hands. He was stuck though with glimpses of a sharp jaw and soft skin. “Look. I know I don’t know the details, but are you telling me you don’t feel this.” He gestured between them. “That you don’t feel...us?”

Louis went quiet again. “I didn’t say that.”

“Okay, so why are you avoiding me?” Harry pressed. 

A huff of breath. “Because we always leave.”

Fuckkkk. “What do you mean, you always leave?”

Louis shook his head. “My step dad. He gets transferred. A lot. We probably won’t even be here for the school year.”

It was as if the castle wall had disappeared beneath Harry. But he tried not to panic. “You know, believe it or not, there are these new fangled inventions called telephones…”

“No, Harry,” Louis interrupted. “Don’t you see, it won’t work? Better to cut it off now.”

“Before we even try?”

“Before either of us get hurt,” Louis corrected and Harry’s heart cracked, just a little, at the hurt he already heard in his voice. This wasn’t about Harry. Louis had experience with this and he was protecting himself.

“It’s too late for that,” Harry threw caution to the wind. Whatever. It wasn’t like he had been being subtle anyway. 

“Harry, come on. I leave now? Three weeks tops and you’ll forget my face. You’ll forget my voice by the fourth week. The way I smell by the fifth.”

“What about the way you taste? When will I forget that?” Harry asked, and -- fuck safety -- swayed into Louis. He laid careful, questioning lips against his cheekbones, a light, butterfly kiss. “Or the way you feel falling apart beneath my fingers. When will I forget that?” His palm settled heavy against Louis’ upper thigh. 

When he squeezed the flesh, Louis moaned turning his face blindly in search of Harry’s mouth until it crashed onto his own. It wasn’t desperate and it wasn’t hesitant. It was tongue slick against tongue. Breath hot and teeth nipping at lips. Harry only pulled back when the urge to lay Louis back against the stone threatened to overtake. Forgetting safety could only go so far. They were about 10 stories up off the ground. 

“Harry,” Louis murmured, his hand coming up to cover Harry’s where it rested against his jaw. He pressed his lips into the palm, and the warmth of the gentle caress slipped up Harry’s arm into the space beneath his heart. 

“Look,” Harry started. “Why don’t we just think about now? Don’t worry about me falling in love with you okay? Let’s just have fun. And you can tell me how many sisters you have. I’ll tell you about what I want to study at uni. You can even ask me my favorite color.”

“Is it blue?”

“Like your eyes,” Harry laughed, trying to ease the tension.

Louis groaned and rolled those eyes, like Harry knew he would. “You’re so embarrassing I swear to god.”

“Should I guess your favorite color?”

“Absolutely not.” Louis was smiling though. 

“It’s green innit? Like my eyes.”

Louis huffed out a breath and laid his head against Harry’s shoulder. 

“Got it in one, Harold.”

**2017**

Between the adrenalin, the nerves and the sheer surprise of it all that afternoon, Louis had not fully been able to appreciate just how well Harry had grown up. In the soft light of the apartment’s hallway sconces, though, Louis was able to drink it in.

Harry had always been ridiculously attractive. Objectively, there was something about that face that drew the eye -- the pink lips, the defined jaw, the clear emerald eyes. There had been a softness in the cheeks and around his eyes that was no longer there and Louis couldn’t decide if he missed it or just really, really appreciated the sculpted lines it had melted into. 

Then there was his shoulders and the arms that had Louis’ mind drifting toward images of really good wall sex. It all nipped in at his waist, to finish up the package with plush thighs and long legs that also conjured up images probably best suited for the shower where Louis could relieve some of the pressure building in his lower belly. 

Harry was decked out in black skinny jeans, similar to his own, and a black t-shirt underneath an open flannel shirt. It was a good look. Louis had paired his own pants with a light purple sweater that he knew brought out the caramel in his skin. 

Louis’ gaze caught on the silver rings that decorated Harry’s long fingers. Fuck. He tore his eyes away, and held out the bottle of wine he brought. He’d been able to pop into Tesco without anyone noticing him. 

“You didn’t have to bring anything,” Harry said, taking the bottle with a smile. There was a caution there in that smile that Louis had never seen on Harry before. He’d always been so open, so eager, so ready to spill out every emotion that tumbled through his heart. Seems like he’d grown up in more ways than one. 

“No trouble,” Louis assured him, stepping through the doorway. “Thank you for having me.”

“Of course,” Harry said, pausing, as if engaging in a debate with himself. He must have decided on something, because before Louis knew it, he was back In Harry’s arms. His own locked around Harry’s waist, and he nuzzled into the hug. It was over far too quickly. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

Louis nodded as if it were a wild happenstance. Harry must have seen something in his face, because his eyes narrowed, but he didn’t press the issue. Turning, he led the way to the kitchen and Louis was forever grateful. He needed wine. 

The flat was small but tidy. Louis caught a glimpse of a lovely purple and gray couch that appeared to be the centerpiece of the living room, swamped by two turquois arm chairs. The rest of the aesthetic was rustic, hipster chic and all Harry. 

The kitchen was everything that is charming in the world. It was black and white, and should have been harsh but the soft lemon highlights made transformed it into a welcome haven. Louis immediately made himself comfortable at one of the bar stools at the island in the center of the room, while Harry poured him that wine. 

“To old friends,” Harry murmured tapping his glass against Louis’.

“Cheers,” Louis said just as softly. They held each other’s eyes as they took the first sip, and then Harry turned away, back to the stove. 

“We’re having some fancy pasta, if that’s okay,” he said going to work. 

“What does fancy pasta even mean? Are they in the shape of the Queen’s corgis?” 

A sharp, honk of a laugh burst out of Harry and Louis grinned. Fuck he’d missed this kid.

“More along the lines of like special sauce and ingredients and shit. I didn’t want you to think I just dumped a box of angel hair in some hot water for you. But good to know that fancy equals corgis to you. I feel like this information is good to have.”

“Sell it to the tabs,” Louis joked. But then an awkward hush settled into the crevices of the kitchen and Louis wished had hadn’t brought it up. 

“So, yeah, about that…” Harry turned, leaning back against the stove, his glass still loose in his hand. 

Shit. “Any rumor you may have heard … it’s all fake,” Louis said. He rarely defended himself. Fuck anyone who believed that shit anyway. He’d also learned along time ago that validating trash gossip with a response only added fuel to the fire. But he didn’t want Harry to look at him and think any of it was true. That that’s the person he’d become. 

“Oh, no, Louis,” Harry crossed the room, as if he wanted to physically reassure Louis. “I know that. I know that. I just wanted to say, you don’t have to worry about me saying anything to anyone about you being here. Or doing something dumb like tweeting it.”

It wasn’t until every single muscle in Louis’ body relaxed that he realized how tense he’d been. “Harry. I wouldn’t be here if I thought you would.”

Harry laughed. “Okay, with that out of the way…” The way he said it had Louis bracing himself again. “Can I ask why you are here?”

Louis leaned his forehead against his palm. “Ugggg. Can we drink more first?” He risked a peek up at Harry through one eye. He was studying Louis again, like he could see his soul. Which was ridiculous, of course. 

The tension broke, though, when Harry smiled turning back to this pots. “I saw A Reckless Heart the other weekend. You were phenomenal in it, Lou.”

A blush slipped along his cheeks. It shouldn’t bring him this much pleasure. “Thanks. I was pretty proud of that role.” Most of his team had advised him against taking it. He’d been raking in millions from his action roles, why take on such a risky project? But Louis had fallen in love with the script. 

“I, uh, well the screenwriter? He’s this kid who came from nothing. He’s gay,” he paused over the word, because he’d just said he wasn’t ready to go there yet. Harry didn’t even pause in the little ballet he had going over by the stove. Louis liked watching the way his muscles moved under the fabric of his shirt has he grabbed spices and stirred sauces. “Anyway, he’d had this really tough life. But when he was like twenty and he had a day job to help support his family, and he was taking three college courses a semester to get his degree eventually, he started writing that story. In like the twenty minutes he had before crashing into bed for three or four hours of sleep. But he did it.”

“That’s amazing,” Harry said, pulling his attention away from the dinner. “That’ really amazing Lou. That you got to meet him and work with him.”

“It was life-changing, Harry,” Louis said. “Actually life changing.”

There was a soft smile tugging at Harry’s lips. “I’m so proud of you Louis.” 

Moisture stung at Louis’ eyes. He was not properly liquored up enough for this. More wine. That would ease the tightness that settled into the back of this throat. “And you! You’re running The Next Chapter,” Louis said. 

“Not quite raking in the millions like you are, but yeah, I like it,” Harry shrugged, with no actual animosity behind it. He was happy. Louis could tell. 

“You love it,” Louis corrected. 

That earned him the full dimple treatment. “Yeah, I do. Mum wanted to head south a couple years ago. I miss her, but I love the store, you know? Always have.”

“I know,” Louis murmured. 

“I went to uni, you know,” Harry said, and it was the first time Louis heard defensiveness in his voice. “In London.”

“I think I knew that,” Louis semi-confessed.

“Oh yeah?”

“I may have looked at your Facebook at some point in the past ten years,” Louis said. 

Harry ducked his head, turning away, but not before Louis saw the pleased smile. “Well, that’s only fair because I’ve read a lot about you. And have seen all your movies.”

Louis groaned. “You must think I’m a twat.”

“I do, but not because of that,” Harry teased. “Always thought you were a twat.”

“And you’ve always been a little shit,” Louis said, but there was a small little thing inside of him that he refused to name. But it seemed a lot like hope. 

“No, for real, though, I only read the good stuff,” Harry said as he moved to the sink with his pasta. 

“That’s impossible,” Louis countered. 

“Um, well yeah. But I only believe the good stuff,” Harry said, glancing over his shoulder. “Are we going there yet?”

Louis eyed his mostly finished glass, and splashed a bit more in. “No.”

Harry laughed at that. “Fair enough. You’ll tell me, yeah?”

“Mmmhmm,” he said. It was insane, the way they slotted back into each other. It had been insane ten years ago too. He stopped questioning it. “So tell me about this wild uni life you lived outside of Holmes Chapel.”

And so Harry did. He told him about the adventure of going somewhere new, of going to London of all places. He told him of his ridiculous roommate Niall, who had been from Ireland, and was the happiest human on earth. They were still good friends it turned out. He told him of the homesickness of the second month after all the new glow had started to dim. He told him of the doubt after he’d failed his first class because he’d been drinking too much and partying too hard. He told him of the way it took him three semesters of near perfect grades to correct the error. He told him about how he’d enjoyed London but missed the quiet of Holmes Chapel. The rush was fun for the years he’d been there, but in his heart he’d known it wasn’t for him in the long run. He missed his castle, he told Louis with a stupid meaningful glance. 

“What about heartbreak, dear Harold,” Louis asked, pushing his plate away so as not to lick it clean. The meal had been delicious -- and he knew good food. He’d eaten at some of the best restaurants in the world, and he would take Harry’s pasta over all of them. 

They sat tucked into Harry’s dining room table, that was way more intimate than the name implied. It was just big enough for four chairs, and Louis and Harry and chosen ones caddy corner to each other, so that their feet and knees bumped when they shifted. Louis was feeling the buzz from the wine, and he pulled his legs into his chest to get more comfortable. 

Harry blushed at the question. “Well you were my first heartbreak,” he answered lightly. But there was something underneath the teasing tone Louis knew he would have to come back to. 

“I know I set a high standard, but there must have been others,” Louis played it off. For now. 

“No one that stuck,” Harry said. 

“Ah, so no one in the picture now?” Louis didn’t think there was. Most of the apartment screamed single. But it was good to check. 

“Nope,” Harry let the “p” pop. He paused but then drew in a breath. “And you?”

“No one,” Louis rushed to say. The tabs said it was some B-list actress, but he was pretty sure they were due to break up in the next week or so, now that promo was wrapping up. 

They locked eyes again and the shadows from the candlelight created depths there that Louis wasn’t sure actually existed. 

“Louis…” Harry started. 

“Can we go on a drive?” Louis cut him off, then swallowed the rest of the wine. They’d gone through about the bottle, which seemed to be about the right amount. Especially since Harry only had about a glass of that.

Harry looked like he wanted to protest for a few seconds, but then he nodded. “Yeah of course. I’ll drive.”

Neither of them had to say where they were going. 

**2007**

“Let’s play a game,” Harry said, poking Louis in the ribs. They were folded into the booth at Ruby’s, their fries long gone cold, their milkshake glasses completely empty. But Ruby didn’t mind that they took up the space for hours on end and neither had motivation to leave the comfort of lounging in each other’s arms 

Louis’ hand was tugging at Harry’s ever growing curls, and Harry sunk into the sensation like a cat into a warm spot of sunlight. But he didn’t want to doze. He wanted to absorb as much as Louis as he could while he had him. 

“What kind of game?” Louis wiggled his eyebrows at him suggestively. 

“Oh please, what kind of dirty game could we play in the middle of Ruby’s?” 

Louis thrust his hips up just a bit, just to get Harry’s attention. “Hey, there is a table offering us some coverage.”

“Gross,” Harry said, but hmmm. Maybe. But not now. 

“Kink shaming is not polite, dear Harold,” Louis chastised. “You never know what kind of fun things you can explore when you have an open mind.”

“Um, I think gross was the wrong word,” Harry smirked. “I really meant exciting, invigorating, fascinating.”

Louis pinched at Harry’s hips. “Okay, not ruling out kinks, got it. Now what game are we playing?” The tone was long-suffering, but Harry knew he was having fun.

“It’s called Truth.”

“Truth or Dare?”

“Nope. Just truth,” Harry said, and leaned heavier into Louis’ body, knowing he was going to need some convincing on this. 

“Um, Harold. That’s ilke ... a conversation. That’s not a game,” Louis said.

“No but you like, have to ask the other person a question and if they don’t want to tell the truth they have to do something,” Harry said. And okay, yeah it seemed a lot like a conversation. 

“Something naughty?” Louis asked and Harry fell a little further. Of course he was indulging Harry. He always did. Even if he pretended to be put off by it. 

“Of course,” Harry said. “The person asking the question sets the stakes.”

Louis considered the terms for a moment before butting his chin against Harry’s forehead. “Okay. Game on, love.”

“Yayyyy,” Harry punched a fist into the air, provoking a giggle from Louis. 

“You’re an excited puppy,” Louis said. It was so fond it was painful. Harry swallowed hard. 

“I’ll start since it’s my game,” Harry decided. “Ok if you don’t answer this, you have to give me a handjob.”

“These don’t really seem like deterrents, babe, just going to warn you on that little flaw.”

Regardless. “What’s the longest you’ve stayed in a place?”

The humor dropped off Louis’ face almost immediately and Harry wondered if he ruined the fun before it even began. But then Louis took a deep, shuddering breath. “Three years,” he said, his voice small. “From when I was 11 to 14. It was almost worse than leaving quickly. Ok my turn.”

Harry didn’t want to leave it at that. But if he had to wait, wait he would. 

“How many times have you been in love?”

“What are the stakes?” Harry asked, just because. 

“Blowjob.”

Harry hummed. “I mean, I want to do that anyway.”

“I told you,” Louis laughed. But poked him. 

If you’d asked him the question before he’d met Louis he may have answered differently. Now it was a no-brainer. “Once.”

The answer lingered as the air became taut between them. “Okay, my turn,” Harry said, breaking the tension. “Why was staying harder?”

Louis sighed. “I knew you were going to come back to that. Fuck. So it was Cornwall. By that point we’d been moving every year or so since as long as I could remember. I made friends because well, I learned people liked to be around the class clown.”

Harry gasped. “You!? A class clown? Never!”

“Oi. Fuck off. Do you want to hear or not?”

Harry settled back into his arms. “Proceed.”

“So it’s not like I’d never made friends, but none that would… I don’t know. Actually feel real? Actually nothing really felt real. Nothing was permanent except my family. So nothing really had importance, you know?”

Harry murmured something to get him to continue to talking, resting his hands on Louis’ upper thigh. His fingers traced along the inseam of his jeans, and he tried not to make a wrong move. Louis was sharing. Louis was talking about his feelings. Jesus. 

“But in Cornwell, well at first it sucked because we didn’t know how long we were going to be there,” Louis continued. Thank God. “So I kept waiting for the shoe to drop as usual. Not letting anyone get too close. But then there was this one kid. His name was Ed. Is Ed. He just kept coming round. No matter how many times I blew him off. Then the news came we’d be there for at least two years.”

The way he said it was as if they’d found out they’d gotten a reprieve from a death sentence. “That must have been so nice.”

“Nice. Yeah. I was ecstatic. I decided Ed and I would be best friends forever,” Louis laughed a little bit, at himself, and without humor. “We were too.”

Fuck. Harry didn’t want to know where this was going. But of course he wanted to know where this was going. 

“Then you know, the rug got pulled out,” Louis said softly. “We tried to stay friends, but we were kids. It doesn’t really work like that.”

We were kids. It doesn’t really work like that. Why did that sound like Louis was already resigned to the worst?

“It hurt, like so bad,” Louis confessed. He sounded all of five. “God it fucking hurt so bad. It was the first time I’d let myself actually be friends with someone. Let it feel real.”

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Harry nuzzled into his neck, laying a gentle kiss on that soft spot behind his ear. “I can give you a blowie anyway, for answering.”

Louis smiled. “Your selflessness is truly remarkable. Impressive, really. My turn.”

Harry hummed, but he had distracted himself now. His teeth found the skin at the underside of Louis’ jaw and his hand traveled up his truly majestic thighs until the edge of his pinky brushed against Louis’ semi-interested cock. 

But Louis batted his hand away. “My turn, Harold.”

Harry huffed, grumpy, but settled again. “Fine. If you’d rather talk…”

“You say that as if this weren’t all your stupid idea,” Louis said. “Who were you in love with.”

“You know you’re really obsessed with my love life, Louis,” Harry said, damning this game to hell. No matter that he came up with it. 

“That’s not an answer, babe,” Louis wrapped one of Harry’s curls around his finger. 

“I’ll take the naughty bit,” Harry said. It’s not like Louis didn’t know anyway. 

“Harold,” Louis said. 

“Louis,” Harry tipped his face up. “You don’t want me to answer that.”

Louis’ eyes traced over his face, settling briefly on his lips. “Why?”

Harry knew what he was asking. Not why did Louis not want to know. But why did Harry love Louis. Why would he possibly love him. The crack in Harry’s heart deepened. 

“Because he makes me feel like home.”

**2017**

They didn’t say anything until Harry cut the engine off. The night held a hint of fall in it, but just a whisper. A promise of cooler weather and sweaters and golden leaves and tea. And cuddling under thick blankets. 

The sun had set hours ago, but the moon was full and cut through the dark that had settled over the fields. 

It was like muscle memory, scrambling up onto the hood of Harry’s car. Settling in against him. The number of times they’d done the same that summer were countless. They’d liked watching the sunset. Drinking cheap spirits and smoking hand-rolled cigarettes and pretending they were at least five years older and wiser than they really were. God, they’d been so young. So stupid. Stupid in love. 

“So,” Harry was the one to break the silence. Of course he was. Louis kept his eyes on the outline of the castle. “Why are you here Louis?”

“I saw a sign on the highway?” Louis tried. Just to buy time. 

Harry didn’t say anything. Louis let his eyes track up to the stars and began tracing made-up constellations and Harry still didn’t say anything. 

“Hey Harry,” Louis finally couldn’t take it anymore. 

“Hey Lou,” Harry said, his voice even and easy. 

“Wanna play a game?”

“Hmmm,” he could hear the smile in Harry’s voice as he settled down against the hood, his shoulder bumping against Louis’. “Depends on the stakes.”

“Well they’re naughty of course,” Louis said. 

“Doesn’t sound like a deterrent.”

“Who said anything about deterrents?”

“Well, shit. You have me there,” Harry laughed. “My turn.”

Louis just nodded, trusting Harry to see it or feel it or just know it. 

“Lou, why are you here?”

“Long answer? About four months ago I told my team I wanted to come out,” Louis started. Harry’s hand was strong and warm where it lay next to his, and he took strength from it. Part of him wanted to flip his palm and let their fingers tangle, but he would take it in baby steps for now. “So we started laying the groundwork. It was perfect, you know? It lined up perfectly with ARH promo. Get some headlines for a good movie, and I wouldn’t have to hide any more.”

“Why…” Harry started, but cut himself off, as if trying to play by the rules. As if this were really a game. 

“Why was I back in the closet?” Louis finished the thought anyway. “When I first moved to London to try my hand at the theater scene it was easy, you know? Most of the people I met or became friends with were gay or lesbian or bi. It was… probably the best two years of my life.” This time he did brush the back of his hand against Harry’s. Reassuring. Because, yeah, those years were formative, educational, freeing, and amazing. But Harry was probably one of the best people he’d ever met. And how he felt during those years didn’t erase that. 

“But then I kept getting bigger and bigger roles, which you know. Great,” Louis said. He hated when it sounded like he was a rich little white boy complaining about non-problems. “So I moved to LA. I met some shady ass people there. They’re sharks, Harry. But I take full responsibility. They told me if I wanted any shot at a career I’d have to go back in the closet. No one forced me, though.” 

He let that sink in before continuing. “After a couple years of it, I don’t know I just got used to it? Beards were fucking obnoxious, but easy to come by. Why not right? Sex was hard. I haven’t had a relationship in four years.” That one was embarrassing to admit. “But my career was thriving. Everyone told me I’d made the right decision.”

“What changed your mind?” Harry asked, his knuckles now a constant pressure against the back of Louis’ hand. 

“Remember that screenwriter I was telling you about?” Louis asked. Of course Harry remembered. “He uh. Well his parents were insanely homophobic. They were otherwise nice people -- though how you can be homophobic and nice is still beyond me. But. He fell in love with this guy when he was 18. You know at that really shitty time in his life and still he fell in love. But he had to keep it from his parents, his family, everyone who knew them. He had to pretend it was just his friend.”

Louis breath caught because he hated this part. But then he felt Harry’s fingers, gentle but sure. They found their way into his own and they both squeezed, a bit too tight. “His partner was killed in a car accident five years later. And he couldn’t even grieve properly, not in front of his family.”

“Jesus,” Harry said, bringing their joined hands up so he could brush his lips overs Louis’ knuckles. 

“It took him another two years to come out to his family. And you know what? They aren’t going to exactly march in the next pride parade, but they didn’t disown him,” Louis said, which, well, sadly was what you could ask for sometimes. 

“And there I am, in this shitty little hole in the wall in Mexico -- oh we were in Mexico by the way -- drinking piss beer and wondering what the fuck I was doing,” Louis said. “I called my agent the next day to set the wheels in motion.”

“That doesn’t sound like the end of it though,” Harry prompted when Louis fell silent. 

“Two roles I’d been being considered for immediately fell through once we began the process,” Louis said. “A long-time sponsor dropped me soon after. My agent balked, and has been trying to convince me to reverse course. All that trash in the papers you’ve definitely not read is a direct result of this behind the scenes shit. Now I’m making headlines for all the wrong reasons.” 

“Do you still want to come out?” 

Ah. And there was the million-dollar question.

He found it easy to answer. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because, I tried to remember the last time everything felt absolutely real, and it was hard. I want things to feel real again.”

There was silence following that. And then.

“Hey Lou, what are you doing here?”

It was like Harry knew. Louis turned his head so he could watch his face. It was cast in silver from the moon. So pretty. Always so pretty, his Harry. 

“The last time I felt like everything was real? Well, it was with you.”

**2007**

Louis had brought a picnic basket and Harry wondered if that’s what was going make him cry right then and there. He didn’t though. Instead he held back the tears and just soaked up the image of domestic Lou laying out the quilt, pulling out the tubs of food and the glasses for the wine. They were going fancy tonight. 

Fuck, why wasn’t life just a little bit more fair? Why was he losing this boy only months after finding him? Why could Louis stay in one place for three fucking years, but was leaving Holmes Chapel after six months? Why. Why. Why.

Louis finished arranging everything -- himself included -- then glanced back, curious as to why Harry was lingering by the car. On the drive out Harry made Louis pop in his mixed CD that had Tiny Dancer on it, because, memories. But apart from singing they hadn’t talked until they got to the field. As was their custom. 

They still had a bit before sunset, before the world around them turned magical and shrunk to just them like it always did in that hour between day and night. Harry liked to think he was day and Louis was night, and that time when they tangled and merged into the same thing, well. That time was made especially for them.

It wasn’t that time yet, though. So they ate and chatted about stupid things that didn’t even matter. Sometimes those were the best conversations though. 

“Oi. Aliens definitely exist but they think we’re too stupid to actually make contact,” Louis said, waving his fork in Harry’s face so that little bits of salad flew off the end. 

“They’re already here, Louis. I’m sorry to break it to you,” Harry said with only semi-faux sincerity. 

“Is this your way of tell me you’re one of them?” Louis squinted at him as if trying to see beneath a possible skin suit.

“You found me out,” Harry shook his head sadly. “Now I’m going to have to take you back with me.”

“Just promise to use a lot of lube when you start with the probes.”

And so on. There was an urgency in the pit of Harry’s stomach, though, as the light began to fade. He should be soaking up every second of this. Making it memorable. 

As the sun set over the castle on the hill, though, Harry couldn’t keep up the cheerful conversation any longer. Louis noticed, because, of course he did. He pushed everything aside, so that he could sit behind Harry, and wrap him in his arms. Harry slotted in between his legs, just a little bit too long to fit. Still it felt perfect. 

Louis sunk his teeth into Harry’s sweatshirt-clad shoulder. “You know I do, right?”

I do love you. That’s what Louis meant, but wouldn’t say.

That’s when the tears started. It wasn’t sobs yet, though he was expecting those to come later. These were just sadness slipping from his eyes. “Don’t.”

“I’m sorry.” 

“Why won’t you try?” Harry asked for what he promised himself would be the last time. 

“Because that’s not how life works. We’re so young Harry. You’re going to find someone who can actually be there for you. The way you deserve.”

“I deserve you,” Harry said, hating the neediness he heard in his own voice, but unable to do anything to stop it. 

Louis laughed at that, but there was no humor in it. “You deserve so much more than me, Harry. You deserve the world. The actual fucking world.”

“You still don’t see, do you?”

“Don’t see what?”

“That you’re the sun, Louis. You’re the sun.”

Louis simply shook his head, refusing to believe Harry. The frustration was dull but hard to ignore. And it let Harry focus on something other than the overwhelming darkness that was threatening to crash down on him. 

“Phones, Louis. And we’re not kids. We’re 16. We’ll be on our own soon. We can make it.”

“Let’s not do this tonight, Harry,” Louis voice was firm. There would be no swaying him. “It’s our last night.” 

It not now, when? Harry wanted to scream. He didn’t, though. Instead he sunk further back against Louis until every part of him touched some part of Louis. He kissed the forearm that rested loosely on Harry’s upturned knees. “I love you.”

Louis wouldn’t say the words. But he felt them. That’s what Harry tucked against his heart in a futile attempt to keep it from breaking. 

Louis thought a clean break would be better for them. Cold turkey and all that. “You’ll forget me, don’t worry,” he’d promised Harry. That would never happen. Never. 

The shitty thing was Harry knew, he knew, that Louis didn’t want that. Louis wanted him. He showed that. With every gentle look; with the little bouquet of wild flowers he’d bring Harry because they reminded Louis of him; with the way he not only watched every episode of Twin Peaks even though he hated it because Harry had wanted to but the way he engaged Harry in discussion about the characters afterward; with the way he’d bought Harry polish after he’d confessed he wanted to paint his nails; with the way he made sure to pick up the cheddar crisps because they were Harry’s favorite. With every tiny gesture that proved Louis cared, that proved he listened, that proved he loved, Harry was told in a million ways that Louis didn’t want to end this. 

But he was still that boy for whom nothing was real, and the rug was always about to be pulled out. Harry got it. It didn’t mean he particularly liked it -- or agreed with it -- but he got it. 

So instead of yelling and fighting and giving into what felt like rejection, he shifted in Louis’ arms. 

He nudged Louis until he was laying back against the blanket. Both their eyes were damp, but neither of them mentioned it. Instead Harry bent down to kiss him. Deep, wet and open. I love you, he told him with each caress of tongue against tongue. You are amazing. 

It was lazy at first, as one by one the stars popped out onto the black canvass of the sky. If not for each other’s heat, they might have been cold, but that wasn’t really a problem at the moment. 

Louis’ fingers slipped up and under the back of Harry’s sweater, his nails dragging along the skin. With that, it turned desperate. Harry pulled his lips from Louis’ and began working his way down Louis’ body. His sweet, hot body. His mouth traced along the delicate arch of his neck, his tongue dipped into his collarbones, his teeth bit at his nipple through the thin material of his shirt. He let the fabric get wet so that it molded itself to Louis, then blew on it gently. 

“Fuckkkk,” Louis whimpered, but Harry refused to get distracted by the delicious sound. He was on a mission. He wanted this to feel good for Lou. That’s all he ever wanted. So he kept moving. 

He settled himself a bit between Louis’ thighs as they fell open to welcome him there. The soft swell of Louis’ belly was irresistible. Harry pushed Lou’s shirt up until it was bared for him, and then he nuzzled the soft skin, his teeth scraping along until he drew another beautiful little murmur from the back of Louis’ throat. 

“Want to hear you, baby,” Harry rasped out, as his fingers went to work on Louis’ jeans. The warmth of him, the smell of him, the feel of him beneath his hands, beneath his mouth was a lot. The sounds Louis was making were just pushing Harry even further over the edge. 

“I want you to get on with it Harrold, is that what you want to hear?” Louis said, but his voice was broken and not nearly as sassy as Harry was sure he’d meant it to be.

Harry paused, looking up to meet Louis’ eyes. “Do you really think mouthing off right now is wise, love?” He’d been ghosting his fingers over Louis’ hard length, but he withdrew them now, as if he were going to actually stop. No matter how idle the threat was.

“If you don’t start ‘mouthing off’ on me I’ll show you mouthing off.”

Harry barked out a laugh. “Oh my god I’m so embarrassed for you, that made no sense,” Harry giggled and Louis grumbled. It was a win for Harry, though, because Louis didn’t have a retort. He just moaned as Harry bent and kissed the tip of his cock. Then, in one swift move that Harry was pretty proud of, Harry yanked the tight jeans and Louis’ pants down. Louis kicked out a bit to help him and then there was just Louis. 

All humor disappeared along with Harry’s breath. He’d seen Louis naked countless times now. Although the fields were a prime location for make out sessions, they hadn’t limited their adventures to just when they could make it out there. There had been lazy blowjobs by the lake; furtive, mutual hand jobs in the Tomlinson coat closet; wank-inducing late-night calls where laughter turned to hush whispers as naughty words slipped over wet lips. But every time, every single time, Harry was struck dumb. 

It was just that Louis was so perfect. So soft and hard at the same time. His skin golden, his eyes luminous, his pert little nipples begging for attention, his tummy irresistible, his cock thick and flushed with desire. It was the look on his face, though, whenever Harry had him spread out beneath him that really did it. He was almost... vulnerable. This Peter Pan boy, this class clown, this person who was constantly in motion, whose face was a quickfire movie of all the emotions he felt, became still. Became open. Became defenseless. 

And Harry thought it might be the prettiest thing he’d ever seen in his life. 

He bent now, unable not to kiss Louis. There was a little nip on his bottom lip that meant “Oi, get the fuck on with it Harold,” in Louis, and since the demand fit so nicely with Harry’s own plans, he did. 

Back between Louis’ exquisite thighs -- honestly where he wanted to live out the rest of his days -- Harry rubbed his cheek against the sensitive skin right next to his cock, and wished he could grow a beard to torture Louis with. 

C’est la vie though. Instead of lingering any longer he licked up the underside of Louis’ cock, along the vein until he reached the tip and then he sunk down. He didn’t stop when he felt Louis’ nudge the back of his throat, simply swallowed against the length of him.

“Oh my god,” Louis slurred, when Harry hummed in satisfaction. He pulled off for a second, then went back at it. Louis’ hand unclenched from the blanket to bury itself in Harry’s curls, not pushing, just holding onto him. Harry worked over his shaft with his tongue, swirling it around the sensitive tip and then swallowing again. Meanwhile, his free hand drifted from the base of Louis’ cock to his balls. The moans it drew from Louis were obscene. Harry wanted to record them. 

“‘M close,” Louis warned, Harry popped off, his fingers wrapping gently around Louis, giving him a little squeeze to stave it off. Not yet. This couldn’t end yet. 

Harry shifted his attention to Louis’ legs. His teeth nipped at the skin there until he found the perfect spot and bit down. “Ahhhhhh,” Louis arched off the quilt, bowing back beautifully in the moonlight. Harry wanted to cry. Instead he went back to that spot, his tongue lapping at it, soothing, before he sunk down into it again. It would bruise. Harry’s breath was hot against the damp skin and his thumb smoothed over the mark, wanting to press it in, make it stick. 

Moving away from it was almost painful, but Harry wanted to spend equal time on both legs. 

“Harry, please,” Louis stuttered out, and Harry could tell from his voice he was almost broken. Just as Harry liked. 

“Okay, baby, okay,” Harry murmured, his hand giving Louis the friction he needed. It wasn’t as fast and hard as Louis was probably craving but Harry wanted to drag it out as long as possible without being too cruel. His thumb found the slit at the top and pressed down a bit, before he slicked the pre-come that was leaking there back down his length. “I’ve got you.”

Louis glared up at him through still-damp eyes. “Harold.”

Harry laughed, but could deny his boy no longer. After a quick peck on Louis’ lips, he slipped his mouth back over his cock, sinking down until his nose was buried against Louis’ skin. 

“Fuckkk,” Louis slurred again, his fingers convulsively clenching in Harry’s hair. Harry hummed again, letting the vibrations send shivers of pleasure along Louis body. His own cock was painfully hard, the thick length of cock in his mouth never failing to get him to the edge, and he rutted down against the blanket. This wasn’t about him though. Not in this moment. 

It only took a few more seconds before Louis was tapping him in warning. Harry pulled back, but just a little bit, until the tip was resting against his tongue. He wanted to taste Louis one more time. Then he let his finger dip down to find Louis’ hole, and pressed his knuckle against the rim. 

Louis came with Harry’s name wrenched from his lips and Harry swallowed happily. 

Harry was on his knees in a flash, his hand working to pull himself from his unbelievably tight jeans. Louis was wrecked, his hair mussed from his own fingers, his cheeks flushed, his eyes hooded and sleepy. Jesus fucking christ, he was a vision.

Louis tried to lift a sluggish arm to help Harry once he realized what was going on, but Harry batted his hand away, his own fingers demanding and fast on his cock. “No, baby,” he murmured. So Louis just watched, his eyes flitting between Harry’s face and his cock as if he couldn’t decide which he wanted to see more. 

It took less than a minute for Harry to come on Louis’ stomach. He collapsed against Louis’ side and cuddled into his soft body. Louis dropped a kiss to the top of his curls and Harry pretended he wasn’t fighting back tears. 

His fingers found the mess he made on Louis’ tummy and rubbed the come into his skin. 

“Gross, Harold,” Louis said, his voice fond and dozy. 

“Don’t pretend you don’t love it,” Harry said, bringing one of his fingers to Louis’ mouth. His tongue darted out to taste Harry and Harry would have come on the spot if he hadn’t just thirty seconds ago. 

“I do love it,” Louis murmured, and Harry thought he might be talking about something bigger. It didn’t matter, though. This wasn’t their beginning, this was their ending. Harry nuzzled further into Louis’ neck, wanting to shut out the thought. It had no place here, not now, not after what they’d just shared. “I’ll show you how much, just give me a few minutes to recover, babe. Then it’s your turn.”

Any other night Harry might have made a joke about his need for recovery time, but not tonight. Instead he just let his eyes drift shut, let himself be wrapped in his love’s strong arms, let himself fall asleep to Louis’ heart beneath his ear. 

“The sun, Louis,” Harry whispered as he sunk into his dreams. “The actual sun.”

**2017**

As the silence stretched out, Louis began to hope the ground would open up to swallow him whole. What the fuck was he thinking? The last time I felt like everything was real? Well, it was with you.

The words hung in the space between them, and it wouldn’t take long for them to turn awkward. No matter how easily they’d slipped back into it, no matter how familiar Harry felt, he was actually a stranger. Someone Louis had known almost a decade ago. And here he was confessing his borderline love for him. God. So fucking embarrassing. 

“I’ve not…” Louis cleared his throat. Needing to break the awful tension. “I’ve not carried a torch or anything. I haven’t been pinning for ten years like a crazy person.”

Harry laughed at that finally. “I didn’t think you had been.”

But he still wasn’t looking at Louis. 

“I just.” How could he explain this. “I wasn’t driving up north, Harry. I didn’t just see a sign.”

One corner of Harry’s lips tipped up. “Yeah, figured that one out.”

Always a smart ass this one. “Last night, it all got to be too much, you know? The walls started closing in. It’s not like I think about you all the time, or really that often.”

“Oh, gee, make me feel special, Lou,” Harry cut in. 

Louis nudged his shoulder. “I couldn’t let myself. But when I did, it was just so calm? And lovely. Not in the nostalgic way I think about that time in London. That’s different. It was great. But it’s over and done. With you it’s, it’s like it’s still there? I’m not… I’m not explaining this right.”

“Take your time,” Harry said. 

Easier said than done. He wanted to rush it all out, he wanted it to be over, he wanted to know if he’d have to slink back to his car, drive back to London, leave this boy behind for a second time. He didn’t think he could do it again, to be honest. “We moved to Doncaster after leaving here. I was there for two years. Can you believe? Holmes Chapel was our shortest stay.”

“Fucking life, man,” Harry muttered. Louis agreed. 

“I actually made friends there,” Louis continued anyway. “Good ones, I still talk to. My stepfather got a new job and him and my mum and family are still there. I go back every month when I can. It should be home, really.”

“But it isn’t?”

It was only sort of a question, but Louis answered anyway. “It’s not.”

Harry huffed out a breath and Louis knew he got it. But he still didn’t speak. 

“Hey Harold.”

“Hey Louis.”

“Is it my turn?”

Harry smiled. “Yes Louis.”

This one was scary. But he had to know. It would eat at him otherwise. No matter what the outcome of tonight turned out to be, Louis had to know. “Do you think I’m a coward?”

“For which thing?”

“Either.”

Harry reared up at that, his eyes fierce in the darkening night. “Louis. You are not a coward for not being out. Absolutely not. You did what you thought was best for you. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Don’t for a second think you were a coward.” 

Moisture gathered in Louis’ eyes at the fierceness he heard in Harry’s voice. He wouldn’t bring up the endless nights he’d spent reading shit posts about himself. About how he must hate himself. How he must be homophobic. How awful he was. Harry’s words were like a balm. 

“And the other thing?” Louis’ voice broke a bit, but at this point, what was he trying to do? Be cool? Clearly he’d failed at that. He was an emotional mess and Harry might as well see it all. Him in all his glory. 

Harry breathed deep through, his nostrils flaring. Then he laid back against the hood of the car. “I think you were, yes.”

Fucking ouch. He hadn’t thought it would hurt so much. He deserved it though. “Okay, yeah.”

“I’m not saying you still are, Lou,” Harry said. “But leaving like that? Without giving us a chance? Yeah. You were fucking scared and you were a coward.” 

Louis bit on his lip, trying to stop the tears. It wasn’t successful. He must have let out a little whimper because Harry rolled, pushing up on his elbow to look at Louis. Finally. Finally. 

A little distressed sound escaped Harry’s lips, and his thumb came up to brush against the moisture on Louis’ cheeks. “I’m sorry, baby.”

Louis shook his head, his eyes locked on Harry’s. God he felt so vulnerable. The last time he’d laid himself so bare was with … well, with Harry. “I deserve it. I don’t know why I pushed you away.”

“I do,” Harry smiled sweetly, so sweetly. “You thought it was all going to fall apart. And if you had control over the way it happened, it would hurt less than if it came as a surprise.”

Shit. Yeah. “You were going to forget me.”

Harry laughed at that. “Babe.”

“It’s what I always knew. People forgot me.”

Harry closed his eyes at that, as if absorbing an actual blow. “I’ve never forgotten you Lou.”

“Hey that rhymed,” Louis said, trying to ease the heaviness in the air. Harry humored him with a little smile. There was something about this grown up Harry that was different than his boy. A guard. A hesitancy. Young Harry had been an open book. His love for Louis had spilled out of every centimeter of his body. He’d been so free with his feelings, danced in them, celebrated them. 

This Harry though, was closed off. He was still open and friendly, but the way he would be with a friend. No longer did each emotion chase itself across his face. There was a neutral mask in place instead. Louis mourned for the loss, but thought maybe it would be even more satisfying when he did get a reaction. If he could. 

“I’ve never forgotten you,” Harry repeated. “But you broke my heart, Louis. And that’s still there. I loved you so much. You didn’t want to fight for us at all, though. You gave up so easily.”

A little bubble of panic caught in the back of Louis’ throat. Would Harry not forgive him? He needed Harry to forgive him. “I know. I’m so sorry, Harry. It was the biggest mistake of my life, letting you go. I didn’t understand.”

There was a pause at that. “Didn’t understand what?”

“How you could love me so much that you would want to try,” Louis admitted. 

“Because you didn’t love me enough to want to?” Harry prodded.

No. Fuck no. “No, fuck no, Harry. No,” Louis said, pushing up. “Yeah, maybe it was young love. And maybe it all happened fast. So fast. But I loved you more than I’ve ever loved anyone before or since. It burned like a fucking wildfire, Harry. It consumed me like a wildfire.”

“You never believed me,” Harry murmured, watching Louis’ face above his now. “That you were the sun to me.”

It was still jarring to hear. That this boy, this magical human, could think that of him. “I didn’t trust you. I didn’t trust what you were feeling.” And that was a goddamn shame. Because it could ruin his once chance at happiness. 

“Ah, now we’re making progress,” Harry smiled. And his dimples actually popped out and Louis felt blessed. He didn’t really know what he’d done to deserve it, but he’d take it. 

They were quiet, but breathing together, watching each other’s expressions. Louis didn’t dare even move. 

“Lou,” Harry finally said. “What do you want now?”

What did he want? The easy answer was Harry, but Harry knew that. Honesty. That’s what got him the dimples before. “I want to actually try.”

Harry nodded, which wasn’t an immediate rejection. Thank fucking God. “You don’t even know me anymore, though. And I don’t know you. We could have changed Maybe we wouldn’t work.”

And this? This argument he could counter in his sleep. “Um, I hate to throw your words back in your face, dear Harold, but weren’t you the one to say we do know each other. After like three sentences of conversation.”

Harry barked out a laugh. “You remember that?”

“Of course,” Louis shrugged one careless shoulder. “I thought you were ridiculous and amazing and I’d never met someone like you. But it also kind of made sense? Like it felt like I knew you. Even then.”

“I was young and naive then. Before I had my heart broken,” Harry narrowed his eyes, but there was a teasing quality in his voice that hadn’t been there since they’d gotten to the field. Louis counted it as a win. 

“Look, I know I can’t just drop into your life after ten years of radio silence and really expect anything,” Louis said. He wasn’t delusional. “And it would be asking a lot to even suggest a friendship at this point. I’m about to enter a shitstorm of publicity around coming out and dragging you into that isn’t fair.”

“It’s not that…” Harry started. “I just. It’s been ten years. I think you’re amazing, Louis. I always have. I see your movies, I read your interviews. And I’m so unbelievably proud of the person you seem to have become.”

“But…” 

“If you were in it, fully. If this was something you actually wanted to try, the press and the attention and the shit storm -- and god even how we’d make this work with me here and you in London -- none of that would matter,” Harry said. “How do I know you won’t give up when it’s hard again though? I can’t throw myself into that and then get dropped. Real relationships are actually hard. They’re not like sweet memories of a summer spent wrapped in each other. They’re fights and distance and irritation and they’re fucking hard.”

“I know that,” Louis promised. How could he make Harry see? “I know that.”

“Do you?” Harry’s eyes were wary. This boy who had opened his chest to show Louis his heart when they were young. Now he was wary.

“You have no reason to trust me, Harry,” Louis admitted. “I broke that when I left. But I know what hard is. Do you know how many people have told me not to come out? That it will ruin my career, that I’ll be pigeonholed? I’m doing it. And I came here because I thought, I thought maybe, maybe you’d be proud of me.”

“Oh baby,” Harry said, reaching up to cup Louis’ jaw. “I am so proud of you. You are going to be an inspiration and role model for so many young kids. It’s unbelievably strong what you’re doing.”

The fucking tears again. Jesus. He hadn’t cried in years. “I just thought it was better, you know? To leave before it got to the point where us ending would mean I could no longer breathe.”

“Do you still always think in terms of endings?” Harry asked, slipping his hand to the back of Louis’ neck, tugging him closer. Louis went willingly, eager. 

“With you? Only new beginnings, Harold,” Louis murmured, his mouth a whisper away from Harry’s. He couldn’t be the one to close the distance, though. He had to wait for Harry to decide. 

“Not beginnings,” Harry said, his eyes on Louis’. “We’ve already had our beginning.”

There was something that felt like hope radiating out from Louis’ heart. “Fresh middles?” He suggested in probably the least romantic sentence ever uttered. 

But Harry giggled before pulling Louis’ lips to his own. It was hot and urgent immediately. And all Louis could think was homehomehome and mineminemine. 

Harry tugged at Louis’ hair, breaking the kiss. Louis was panting but he searched Harry’s face for any hesitancy. For any regret. There was none. 

“As nostalgic as this is making me,” Harry said, his own breath a bit ragged. “Perhaps we can move this to an actual bed? I’m not as young as I used to be.”

Louis giggled. “Look at this old man,” he said, but he intertwined his fingers with Harry’s, unable to truly comprehend his good luck that Harry was seemingly willing to forgive him. To give them a chance. “Can you even get it up anymore.”

Harry brought their joined hands to the front of his jeans. “What do you think, you little smart ass?”

Happiness was pulsing off of Louis’ very skin. “I think you’re going to have to prove it.” 

Harry narrowed his eyes. “You’re going to pay for this.”

“That’s what I was hoping for, dear Harold,” he patted his cheek then hopped off the hood of the car to scramble into the passenger side. Harry tripped in his rush to get behind the wheel. 

**2007**

Harry didn’t want to wake up. He was still in that fuzzy middle land between sleep and consciousness and he could so easily just float there, wrapped in warmth and happiness. Facing the day meant Louis would be leaving. That, he did not want to have to deal with. 

“Come on, love,” Louis’ voice was in his ear, and Harry turned toward it, nuzzling into his neck. Harry’s spot. “You’ve got to see this.”

It only took a few more gentle nudges for Harry to finally open his eyes. He blinked against the light. They’d never spent a full night out in their field. They were 16 after all, and their parents weren’t super keen on sleepovers. But this was their last night, so fuck it. 

Still, Harry was unprepared for the sight that greeted him because of that. The sky was on fire. Purples, reds, golds, oranges streaked across it, like a painting. Harry sat up, wrapping his arms around upturned legs. Louis shifted so that he was beside him, thighs and hips and shoulders all touching. Louis let his head drop to Harry’s shoulder, and Harry tipped his own to rest against it. 

For so many nights they’d been watching the sun set over their castle. Something about seeing it come back up eased the pain in Harry’s chest. The world, it turns. The sun, it goes down. But it’s always there for the new day. There’s a permanence to it and Harry promised himself to find comfort in it. 

“Do you think, in another life…” Harry started. 

“I would find you in any life we lived, Harold,” Louis said. 

Except this one.

There was nothing left to say. So Harry tangled their fingers together and they sat in their field and watched the sun crest up over the hill and tried to pretend this wasn’t their forever love. 

But Harry knew it was. 

**2017** 

They barely made it into the apartment before Louis was pushing Harry back against the door and sinking to his knees in front of him. His fingers tore at the stubborn button on his jeans, the metal catching on fabric for a desperate second before it popped free. 

And then, sweet Jesus, there was Harry. Semi-hard and gorgeous and Louis’ mouth watered to get around the length of him. Before he could slip his lips over the tip, Harry’s hands were underneath his arms, dragging him back up to his feet. 

Louis whimpered out a little noise, caught somewhere between confusion and desperation. He wanted. God he wanted. 

“Shh, baby,” Harry said, spinning him until his back against the closed door. Two big hands planted themselves on either side of Louis’ head and he felt boxed in, tiny. He glanced up at Harry from beneath his lashes. “Minx,” Harry growled and then his mouth was on Louis’, one thigh slipping between his legs. It pressed up against Louis’ cock, easing some of the pressure there, and Louis rode down hard on it as Harry’s tongue battled with his. 

Louis’ fingers found purchase on the soft love handles that graced Harry’s hips, the nails sinking into the flesh. Harry pulled back a bit, his teeth pulling, tugging, nipping at Louis’ bottom lip as he brought his hand down to Louis’ ass. But instead of lingering over the swell there, he shifted lower so that he could hitch Louis’ leg up around his hip. 

It put Louis off balance, but in the best way. His head thunked back against the door and Louis couldn’t help but shift even harder against Harry. They were all but dry humping, and it felt better than any sex Louis had had in the past year. 

“Okay, baby,” Harry murmured against the sensitive skin below Louis’ ear. Louis didn’t understand what he meant, didn’t care what he meant. He couldn’t really think straight anyway. So he was surprised when Harry brought his other hand down to lift Louis fully into his arms. 

And, okay, it was the hottest thing Louis had ever experienced. His legs were wrapped around Harry’s waist, Harry’s gigantic hands were cradling his ass, and their cocks were positioned so they rubbed together with each step. “Fucking god,” Louis said, his mouth hot and open against Harry’s neck. 

“Harry will do,” Harry said, seemingly unable to resist.

Louis bit at him in retaliation. “You know I hate cliches.”

“You pretend to,” Harry laughed and dropped him onto the bed. Lavender and sandalwood. Harry. It overwhelmed Louis and he turned his head to bury his face in the pillow, chasing the scent. Harry. Harry. “Just like you pretend to hate puns and cheesy chat up lines and knock knock jokes.”

Louis grunted.

“But you forget Louis,” Harry said, and the bed shifted as Harry lowered himself over Louis’ body. His mouth stopped a whisper away from Louis’ ear. “I know your secrets. You love them.”

“Your face loves them,” Louis said, just to make Harry giggle. Success.

“Witty as always, Mr. Tomlinson,” Harry pecked at his lips, and Louis’ heart felt like the fucking Grinch’s. Growing three-sizes just because of a stupid smile and stupid dimples. “Jokes on you, though, because my face does love puns.”

Louis laughed. “You’ve lost it. That doesn’t mean anything.”

Harry’s response was to kiss him quiet. Which. Okay, yeah Louis could get behind. 

It had gentled a bit from the desperation that had gripped them when they tumbled through the door. It was exploring, relearning, remembering. What they liked, what worked for them. It was new and familiar at once and was everything good in the world. 

Before long, though, it wasn’t enough. Louis hands crept back down to Harry’s jeans to finish his earlier work. He pushed at the waistband. “Off,” he muttered and Harry laughed, shifting away. Louis’ made grabby hands at him, but he was back quickly, naked and hard. 

When he settled back down, Louis realized that it wouldn’t do. He hooked his legs around Harry’s hips and then rolled until he was sitting on Harry’s hard cock. Louis unfortunately still had his pants on, but that would be remedied soon enough. For now he just rocked, once, slowly and watched Harry’s eyes darken. 

Harry’s fingers traced up along Louis’ waist until they caught on the fabric of his shirt. He pushed it up and over Louis’ head. It was all a bit of a distraction, especially when Harry flicked at Louis’ nipples. He couldn’t hold back the little whimper, and Harry grinned pleased. This would not do either. 

Harry had always taken control when it came to sex. Louis had loved it. Too often Louis’ thoughts ran wild, each insecurity and bit of doubt chasing one another in an endless, vicious cycle. It was exhausting. When Harry laid his hands on him, his mouth, everything quieted. He didn’t have to think, he could just feel. Harry would take care of him. 

But now he wanted to drive Harry a little crazy. So he captured Harry’s wandering hands, bringing his wrists together. “Don’t touch,” he said, moving them above Harry’s head. Harry let him to do it, his fingers wrapping around the spindles of the headboard. It was fucking hot as hell -- Harry spread out beneath him, naked, throbbing and vulnerable. Shit.

Louis scrambled off the bed first though. He pushed his jeans off his hips, freeing himself from the painful tightness of the fabric. Then he made an educated guess and dug for condoms and lube in Harry’s nightstand. He found what he needed and tossed them on the bed. Harry’s eyes had been on him the whole time, and there was a fire there Louis wanted to see turn wild. 

It had only taken a minute, but that felt too long to be apart right now. Louis settled back over Harry, so that Harry’s cock slipped between his cheeks. He ran a hand over his own stomach as he tried to control the way the feeling made him want to just get on with it and sink down on Harry completely. But not yet. Not yet. 

“So gorgeous, baby,” Harry said, his fingers clenching hard against the wood of the headboard. It gave Louis an idea. 

He let his fingers trail up his tummy to his ribs. Harry’s eyes were glued to him. When his thumb found his own nipple, Harry’s hips bucked up. “Whoa cowboy,” Louis murmured, but there was a smirk he couldn’t hide in his voice. “Easy.” He brought a finger to his mouth, and swirled his mouth around it, letting Harry see the dart of pink tongue against skin. Harry’s cock twitched under his ass, but he kept still otherwise, his eyes hungry. 

Then Louis brought the damp finger down to his nipple and pinched. This time it wrenched a moan from Harry. Louis continued to work over his nipple with one hand and let the other drift back down his belly until he was palming himself. All the while he kept his hips undulating in tiny little figure eights.

“Fuck, Lou, let me,” Harry babbled, his gaze on where Louis was lazily stroking himself, using the pre-come to ease the glide. “Let me.”

“I’m good,” Louis said, trying to keep his voice light. But there was a rasp there, an answering fire in his throat to the one in Harry’s eyes. 

“Baby,” Harry pleaded, but he seemed resigned too. He couldn’t quite control his hips though, which pressed up against Louis’ ass. It shifted Louis a bit and Harry’s tip caught against his rim and it was game over. 

“Fuck,” he moaned, his fingers closing tight over himself, his hips stuttering out of their easy movements. Harry took the opportunity to sit up completely, wrapping his arms around Louis. 

“Such a fucking tease,” he said, without heat, against Louis’ mouth. Louis didn’t even care if it hadn’t lasted as long as he would have liked because now Harry’s mouth was wild against his and that’s really all he’d wanted anyway. 

And then Harry’s hands were everywhere Louis’ had been, as if he wanted to show how much better it was when Louis gave himself over to Harry. Fingertips found the sensitive skin of his ribcage, lips found the ridge of his hip bones, teeth found the swell of his ass. 

Harry gently maneuvered Louis onto his stomach, kissing the edges of shoulder blades before Louis heard the snick of the lube. “It’s um… been a while,” Louis said, a flush on his cheeks. 

“I’ve got you, baby,” Harry said his mouth against the base of Louis spine. I’ve got you. Harry always said that. It was his promise. His vow. One that he always kept. Louis relaxed. 

And then cursed himself for saying anything because Harry proceeded to open him up so slowly, there were tears of frustration pushing at the back of Louis lids. The burn of the first finger faded quickly, so quickly, but Harry just kept working it. He crooked it just right, ghosting over Louis’ prostate and Louis’ curses slipped into the pillow. But still he didn’t add another. 

“Fucking christ, Harrold,” Louis finally said, risking a glance over his shoulder. He was on edge and seeing Harry with his fingers buried in Louis’ ass was possibly more than he could take. It almost was. But what was worse was Harry’s expression. The reverence on his face as he pushed the second finger in. The way his tongue darted out as he scissored Louis open. The smirk when he found Louis’ spot again and Louis couldn’t help but cry out. 

“Another,” Louis panted into the pillow, unable to watch any longer. 

“Mmm, not yet,” Harry murmured bending to mouth at the swell of Louis ass, right next to where his fingers were pushing into Louis. The hint of tongue so close to his hole made Louis’ hips rut down into the bed and he felt Harry’s smile against his cheek. “Beautiful, Lou. You’re so perfect.”

Finally, god, finally Harry slipped in a third finger, and Louis was full. So full. Harry had magical fingers. Long and slender and able to draw sounds from Louis that would be embarrassing if he wasn’t so goddamn turned on.

“I want to come on you cock, Harry,” Louis finally sobbed out. “Please, please.”

“I want you to come on my cock, baby,” Harry echoed, lust and promise coating every syllable. He finally pulled his fingers away, and even though it was what Louis wanted he clenched around the nothingness that was left and felt sad. “Shhh,” Harry said against the back of his neck, shifting him until Louis was on his back again. “Wanna see your face.”

Harry wanted to see his face when he fucked him. Why did that make Louis’ chest feel tight? Why did that feel important? Any words he could have said caught in his throat, so he just nodded and watched as Harry rolled the condom on and slicked himself up. So pretty. God he was pretty. 

Louis legs fell open on their own volition and he didn’t even care how easy for it it made him look. He was easy for it. Easy for Harry. 

“I missed you,” Harry said, leaning down to press his lips against Louis’ in a soft, closed-mouth kiss. It was made even more emotional and intimate as Harry pushed against Louis’ rim until he let him in. It was the first time they’d been this close. When they were younger they always stopped at blowjobs, because Louis had always known he was leaving. And it would have been too much to be each other’s first as well. 

Now? Now it felt so right.

“I missed you,” Louis echoed, his hands tracing up Harry’s side to settle under his shoulder blades on his back. He hitched his legs up and around Harry’s waist to both ease the slide and to get closer, always closer, to Harry.

It was slow, Harry obviously making an effort for Louis’ sake. A bead of sweat slipped along his hairline and his muscles were taut beneath Louis’ hands. The thing was Harry was huge. The other thing was though that Louis loved it. The slight burn was nothing compared to the way his cock was making Louis feel. Full. Stretched. Open. Vulnerable. 

He wasn’t scared though. He trusted Harry to take care of him. 

By the time Harry bottomed out, his balls slapping against Louis’ ass, they were both shaking. Harry dropped his forehead to Louis’, his breathing ragged. 

“Baby,” he slurred. “Feels so good. You’re so good.”

Louis caught his lips once more and then smacked his ass. “Move Harold.” 

“Are you sure,” Harry gritted out and he deserved a fucking medal for his consideration. 

“Please,” Louis said, stroking along his spine to make sure he knew it was okay. 

Harry didn’t ask again. He just pulled out and slammed back into Louis, going deep so deep. Louis arched up against it, and Harry reached down to hook his forearms under Louis’ knees. The change in position brought Harry up against Louis prostate and Louis’ vision went white behind his eyelids. 

“Fuck, Harry,” Louis got out. 

“Yes that’s what you’re doing, love,” Harry said and Louis giggled, endeared that there was always this between them. Laughter. Even during sex. Especially during sex. 

Harry didn’t ease up, his hips snapping against Louis, and Louis needed. Needed. He brought a hand to his cock and groaned in relief. But it only lasted a second before Harry was batting his hand away to replace it with his own. And then, Louis’ thoughts went completely quiet. All he felt was Harry deep in his ass, his fingers tight and demanding against Louis’ cock. His scent was there, slipping around Louis like a blanket. His voice was there murmuring how good Louis was doing. 

“So gorgeous for me baby,” Harry was saying. “Taking it so well.”

Louis forced his eyes open because he wanted to see. He wanted to see where Harry was disappearing into him. He wanted to see Harry’s pretty face, his gorgeous hair, the emotion in his eyes as shifted and Louis clenched against him. 

Then Harry twisted his hand as he was dragging it over his tip and Louis came, shouting Harry’s name as he did. Pleasure pulsed through every centimeter of his body. Endless waves. Harry worked him through it, eyes roving all over Louis shivering, tight body. “Harry,” Louis slurred as he came down from the high and then Harry lost it. It only took three more powerful thrusts before Harry was coming into the condom. 

Harry collapsed against Louis, heedless of the mess on Louis’ belly. They would shower later, Louis thought as he carded his fingers through Harry’s curls. They were sweaty and tousled and gorgeous as always. 

It took them both a bit for their breathing to return to normal. As intoxicating as it was to have a heavy male body pressing his into the mattress, it was losing some of it’s appeal now that the after sex glow was fading. He nudged Harry’s shoulder twice and then once more when Harry didn’t seem inclined to move. The final one did it though. Harry grunted, slipped his hands beneath the curve of Louis’ back and rolled them so Louis was on top. 

Much better.

He folded his forearms against Harry’s chest and smiled down at him. God. When was the last time he’d been this happy?

“Hey Harry,” he said against Harry’s chest.

“Hey Lou,” Harry responded, his eyes close, his voice on the edge of sleep. Maybe already succumbing. 

“In case it wasn’t clear, I’m all in,” Louis said. Just to make sure. 

The corners of Harry’s lips tipped up and he somehow managed to pry his eyes open. “Fresh middles,” he said with a laugh in his voice. But there was something underneath it to. A promise. 

Louis grinned. “Fresh middles can be our always.”

Harry slipped a hand behind his neck and brought Louis up to kiss him. “You’re a dork.”

“Takes one to know one, Harold,” Louis said and it took him back to that summer. As so many things were bound to. 

They broke apart finally, but Louis didn’t go far. He slipped into the little nook of Harry’s arm, curling u beside his warmth. It was quiet for so long Louis was sure Harry’d fallen asleep. 

But then Harry’s arm tightened around his shoulder, drawing him even closer. 

“In case it wasn’t clear,” Harry rasped out, his voice gravelly. “I’m all in, too.”

**2007**

Louis hated everything. He hated his family. He hated moving every year. He hated the flat tire on his bike that was forcing him to walk into town. But mostly he hated Holmes fucking Chapel. 

They weren’t going to be there for long, his mum had promised He couldn’t decide if that was good or bad. There was obviously nothing to do in this town, so the sooner they could leave the better. But it also meant months of not even trying to make friends. It would be the definition of fruitless to even try. 

It was then, as he was cursing everything around him, that he turned a corner and found himself in front of a book store. The Next Chapter. Cute. No, not cute. Stupid. But he’d been meaning to pick up the Bukowski novel Ed had recommended back when he’d been in Cornwall. No time like the present. He certainly was going to have plenty of opportunity to read. 

He pushed through the door, a little bell announcing his presence. The boy at the counter didn’t even glance up, his head bent over something he was reading. Louis shrugged and lost himself in the shelves. It was a book lover’s dream, each corner of the store bursting with everything from classics to the latest thrillers, from old school Harlequin romances to James Paterson. Louis wanted to live there forever. 

Maybe not everything in this fucking town was stupid. 

Eventually he pulled himself away from browsing and found the books he’d come in for. He took them to the counter and that’s when the breath was knocked out of him. Because the boy there was the most gorgeous person Louis had ever seen. Okay some might say he was too cute to be gorgeous, all round cheeks and big green doe eyes and a brown chocolate curls. But Louis knew better. He was gorgeous. 

“Hii,” the boy drawled and his voice was surprisingly deep and steady. “Can I help you?”

There were words he should say, he realized that. Like hi back would probably be polite. But he couldn’t seem to get his mouth to work. So he simply quirked a brow and dropped his books on the counter. 

“So, you’re new?” the boy asked, his eyes --greengreengreen--tracing curiously over Louis. And nope, Louis was not going there. If he wasn’t even going to try to make friends in this town, he certainly wouldn’t try to get himself a boyfriend. No. Hell no. What fresh hell that would be when he was leaving in six months. Tops. So he didn’t say anything, just nodded. It hadn’t really been a question anyway. Holmes Chapel was the type of town where everyone knew if you were new. 

Maybe green eyes here would think him so rude he’d give up on attempts to talk. 

“Where’d you move from?” 

So that plan didn’t work. And Louis could only ignore his manners for so long. But his savior turned out to be a tiny little elderly woman who chose that moment to swing through the door. Louis used the distraction to pull a twenty pound note from his pocket to hold out to the boy. 

There was a disappointed slump to his shoulder when he took the money, and Louis wished a little bit. Wished that he was actually staying. That he could chat up this cute boy at the register and maybe they could kiss a bit and hold hands and break up like normal teenagers did. But Louis would never get the chance to do that. So instead of moping over something he couldn’t have -- and a boy he’d met for literally three minutes -- he just took his change and thanked whatever gods there were that he would get out of there unscathed. 

That was until he heard the boy call out to him one more time. “Hey. I didn’t get your name.”

And that, Louis couldn’t ignore. He paused, one hand on the door, glancing back toward the gorgeous, gorgeous person. “I could be cliche here and say, ‘No you didn’t.’ But, I hate being cliche. So. I’m Louis.”

With that he slipped out the door, but not before he saw the brilliant grin creep across the boy’s face, and his eyes light with humor. 

And Louis fell a tiny bit in love. 

xxx


End file.
